


Tripping on Life and Falling for You

by DerangedNova



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Awkwardness, Depression, F/F, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Grillby is MAGNIFICENT, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overthinking, Papyrus Being Papyrus, Racism, Reader Is Not Chara, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader-Insert, Sans Remembers Resets, Secrets, Self-Harm, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Swearing, Unhealthy Relationships, We got all kinds of issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2018-11-20 08:50:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11332449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DerangedNova/pseuds/DerangedNova
Summary: You’re on your own.When you walked out of high school for the last time all those years ago, you found a job and work as a waitress that has good enough pay to support yourself in a half-decent apartment. Your mother is dead and gone, and you're certain your father doesn't want to see you again. You aren't quite sure how you get by with the way you're living, and you doubt anything works out, even if everything seems okay. But then a skeleton grants your secret wishes by quite literally falling into your life. Time passes, and you discover he's filling an empty void you thought could never be filled. The question is, will he stay with you for the whole ride, or will you truly be left on your own?





	1. Puppies, Fuck... Yeah... Oh

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy..?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing is quite what you expect and you may be in trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT -- combined ch 1 and 2, threw in some word spice and a dash of gET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER AND JUST WRITE BETTER

Walking is fun, isn’t it? Good for ya, too. That’s certainly not the reason why you’re aimlessly wandering around the city, though. Just the crippling loneliness that drove you to the point of near insanity. If you don’t interact with something that’s actually alive, you’ll flip out. Therefore, you decide to get out and get some fresh air for once. Through the smudgy windows of a coffee shop, people are sipping their drinks, laughing and enjoying life. Why not stop for something on the way back? It’s the perfect weather for something warm. Or rather hot, because you burn your tongue every fucking time you drink something of the like.   
  
Making your way (near) downtown, walking fast(ish), with hands in your oversized hoodie pocket and humming along to some catchy Fall Out Boy song you don’t know the title of, you couldn't help but notice outlandish... individuals (is that even what you would call them? “Creatures” sounds too surly and impolite) on the other side of the street. A few blobs of what you’d call Jello are plowing their way down the road, just kinda going through everything, phasing through signs, absorbing a few small things here and there. Rip those few bugs, 20XX-20XX. Further behind them, there’s a cat (or maybe a dog?) that seems to be quivering violently. Next to it, a miniature volcano walks(?), emitting puffs of pale smoke. Sneaking a glance behind you, you throw a hand in front of your mouth to stop a gasp that’s about to escape. There’s a  _ giant clothed bear _ on its hind legs just about twenty feet behind you, as well as a dog in a similar fashion in  _ armor _ with cream-colored fur and an outrageously long neck. It’s… so unnaturally long... Yeeaaahh, take your eyes back to the other side of the street. Maybe it’s only your imagination being desperate and you're just delusional for being isolated for so long. Oh, and lookie there more unknown creations.   
...   
Okay, so those are things you do not see everyday…

  
After stumbling from your steps growing distracted and slow, you make a beeline for the pet shop just to your right. Maybe nobody noticed your considerably rude staring...? Oh well. Pet store means puppies, and puppies make everything better in the end, always (RIP Professor Snape). If you could financially support one yourself, you might be a little happier. It's your fault that you can't--   
  
Okay nope, no. Hop off that train. You forcefully shove the offending thoughts out of your head as you fumble with the door, pushing instead of pulling like a dumbass. Now is  _ not _ the time for that. Happy, playful, cute, adorable, fluffy puppies! YAY. Just a few minutes in here, then you can finish your walk and get a beverage and go home and live in a blissful ignorance of the horrible world around you again.   
  
Upon entering correctly, the jingling of a bell sounds your arrival and the lady behind the counter greets you with a tired smile. You give her a compassionate little wave; she looks stressed out. It’s easy to figure out why. Little kids run down the aisles, their parents nowhere in sight, screeching unpleasantly and touching all of the animals despite the numerous signs that say otherwise. You suppose she had simply given up on them. Various types of animals make their animal noises, and someone is yelling very loudly. You wince at the words with their inhuman volume because damn, you might go deaf if you hear that all the time. You came here to see puppies and you are definitely going to do just that. A little music would really help. Digging around in your hoodie, you blindly search for the desired item. Wallet… phone… candy… pen… lip balm… apartment keys.

 

…No earbuds. So you managed to pack an extra snack, but not your earbuds. Typical you, always throwing your priorities out of proportion. At least this discovery wasn't completely a loss.

 

Shit. You really could use them right now. And an Aspirin. But whatever. Something a little loud could never stop you just like that! Just try to ignore your pounding head and go! Straightening up and taking a deep breath, you push forward.   
  
There are fish here. All of them just cheap, boring goldfish of assorted sizes for which you strongly dislike for no good reason. Some kids push past you with wide eyes, taking in the orange mass crowded in the tanks, and you see the first sign of any parents that are with said children, hanging out on the sidelines at the end of the aisle, initiating quiet chatter amongst themselves. Just keep on throwing middle fingers in the air. Mostly to those irresponsible guardians making that poor cashier's life harder. Hell, even these fish. They're stupid and die too quickly.

 

Shrugging because you don’t want to think about whether or not fish feel pain and go down  _ that _ scientific, route, you march onwards to the hamsters and rabbits, giving them a long look because they're just that small and cute and aaaAWWWW the way their noses twitch every few seconds. Reality stabs you violently in the head when you comprehend the fact that you got closer to the voice that was unnecessarily loud, rambling about responsibilities and dogs. At least half of what they’re saying is appealing to you. It seems to be coming from upstairs, where you’re planning to go. They must be looking at puppies, too (obviously, what else would they be doing?).

 

Whether you decide to suck it up or to simply accept your fate of a bad headache, you take another deep breath and start to make your way up the stairs-   
And choke on your own air as you freeze, not even through the first step.   
  
...Is it eye contact if the person doesn’t quite have eyes? Because there appears to be a skeleton at the top of the stairs, scrutinizing right down at you. He (you're assuming  _ don’t sue me I’m sorry if I misgendered you _ ) is wearing a blue zip-up hoodie, track shorts, and sneakers. Small white specks light up his sockets and a wide grin decorates his face. His hands are shoved into his pockets, and a leg extends out, frozen, but it hovers over the creaky stairs, waiting to touch down. You can barely make it out, but there’s a gap between his tibia and fibula. Qualified, genuine,  _ not fake _ skeleton.

…

…

…   
When you come face to face with something straight out of cliche Halloween movies, you find yourself in slight shock. Just…  _ what?  _ What are you even supposed to think of this? A series of questions fly through your brain, all consisting of some form of how, what, and why, because the  _ fuck is this, some kind of freaky science-fiction horror show? _

  
He only breaks the intense staring after a few seconds and interrupts your thoughts when he doesn't quite grace the first step. The next thing you know, he's tumbling down the stairs  _ all the way from the second floor oh God is he okay  _ and you jump to your right to dodge the skeletal projectile. He hits the floor and lays face down in a heap next to you. Heyy, you didn't hear the sickening  _ crack _ of bones breaking (surprisingly), but that would’ve definitely left some bruises. Ehh,  _ maybe  _ no one saw that, with the majority of people hanging around the fish or being too absorbed in whatever else anyone could do in a pet store on a Sunday afternoon. That’s a good thing, right? Sure, it saved the poor guy's embarrassment, but he may need help and you're not exactly one experienced in the medical field. Yeah, someone who gets queasy at the sight of blood and passes out when needles get too close probably shouldn’t major in that field. 

 

He groans in pain. Glancing down, you're reminded that you should probably ask him if he needs a hospital or something. Cause that’s  _ kinda _ important.

  
"Hey, are you, uh... okay?" Great, you sure are one with words. It's not like this guy just fell down a flight of stairs or anything, of course he's fine.   
  
...  
Should you... poke him? Make sure he's still conscious? Do something other than asking questions he may or may not be able to answer? What if he has a concussion? What if he doesn’t talk? What if he’s just unresponsive? _What is he’s dead?_  
  
As you’re anxiously debating your options, he finally shows some sign of life by turning his skull toward you. The first thing you catch is how disconcerting his grin is because A, he’s still grinning, and B, it’s such a _broad grin_. The second thing, his face is bright blue? All of the distress must have shown on your features because he lifts his right arm and swats his hand in a “whatever” motion. A deep timbre (and maybe some kind of accent?) reverberates from his direction, and you can only assume it's coming from him because there is no one else close enough and too many crazy, out-of-the-ordinary things have happened today that you'll probably believe someone if they told you the world’s going to explode in two seconds. It pretty much already has. Another fun fact; he doesn't even _move his fucking mouth_ when he talks.  
  
"yeah, just fine, _mew_ don't have to worry about me, but _woof_ you mind helping me up?"  
  
...You openly stare at him for a few moments, unable to do anything as your brain processes this, hard at work. Completely ignoring his request and the nightmarish way he speaks, you feel a small smile force your lips up.

 

"Were those puns?" you giggle, half out of the genuine but awful comedy show he gave you, half out of how ludicrous and random that was. You hold out your hand to him, letting most of your wrongly-placed awe and unease dissolve. He takes it, his phalanges engulfing it. Wow, his hand is a lot warmer and smoother than you thought it’d be. Not as hard as you thought the bones would be, either. It was almost like shaking a regular hand, one that was only slightly more solid than flesh, stark white, and empty gaps where joints would be (wait if there's nothing in between the small bones then how are they being held together??).   
  
After the blue-clad skeleton had gotten up, most of the effort on your end, he shakes your still connected hands as he introduces himself, slipping the other one in his jacket pocket. Damn, he has a good few inches on you, and he’s pretty freaking intimidating. And by “a few inches,” you don’t mean one or two, but more like eight or nine. Possibly even more. You had to tilt your head back to look properly at his face being this close. His build was huge, and he was by far the largest and tallest person you had ever met. Suddenly, you feel very small and fragile (and intimidated) with your tiny hand in his firm grip, even with his seemingly affable nature and hilarious vibes.

  
"they sure were,” he somehow winks an eye socket, and you once again question the universe as it explodes in some random corner of your mind. “thanks for helpin' me, bud. i'm sans, by the way. sans the skeleton."   
  
Your brain is running on overdrive trying to comprehend that he is a  _ skeleton  _ who just  _ fell down the stairs _ . But more importantly, he still had the courage to introduce himself to you after that mortifying event. The color on his face is fading, so that's like his version of blushing or something? Except it's blue? Whether it is or not, you don’t blame him. If you'd been in his position, you would be completely scarlet in the face and in desperate need of medical attention. Hell, you'd even deny any assistance you'll receive. Sometimes your pride costs that much.

  
Before too many seconds pass, you force yourself to focus telling Sans your name and not ‘You're a skeleton’ over and over again, considering the fact that it is very obvious and he just told you.

 

"I'm (Y/n)," you say with a gentle smile when your mind clears up, but then it drops slightly. Even if Sans insists he's fine and can keep up his unsettling grin, you don't exactly believe him; you're full of genuine concern for his wellbeing, and tripping down a flight of stairs from the second floor couldn't have felt good. "That... didn't look very fun,” your eyes drift to the side, peering up the stairs before coming back to focus on him. Cause falling down the stairs can be fun sometimes. “You sure you're good?" In moments like these, you wish you were better at reading people because the only thing you can get out of his facial expression is happiness and contentment, which is probably not what he is feeling.

 

It's when his gaze flickers down for just a second that you realize your hands are still clasped together. You quickly tore yours away, slightly horrified when you realize just how tight your grip was, and replace it in your pocket; he follows suit with his own.

 

Ahhh that was embarrassing and stupid now your face feels warm and it's probably red  _ why did you do that _ he probably thinks you’re a fucking weirdo or something oh no he’s gotta be judging you now  _ do something do something now-- _

 

You were too busy getting flustered and making a show of looking at the floor to notice the corners of his mouth raise just the slightest.

 

“S-sorry,” you quietly stutter out your lame apology after your gaze averts. There’s a short silence between you two, but Sans speaks again and you had to recompose yourself again before you could look up at him. Deeeeep breaths, it's fine, it’s not the end of the world.   
  
"heh, ’s okay, and yeah, i’m great. no  _ skin off my bones _ . believe it or not, i've actually been through much worse,” Sans winks again at his pun, which just flies over your head. You really only absorb the last half of what he was saying, nodding slowly when he finishes his sentence, and you don't doubt him for a second. If he could take that accident like any casual, everyday thing, you believe he's probably been to hell and back -- or he's just very clumsy and has fallen down much greater sets of stairs in the past. You really hope it's not the latter, but the prior doesn't sound any better.

 

You don't know what else to say, so you just reply with a simple “Really?” and stare at him for a little longer, which was a really bad choice because it got  _ really  _ awkward  _ really  _ fast. You struggle to come up with something else, mouth opening and closing several times, and you can't help but notice that he is  _ somehow _ sweating. If you could call beads of translucent blue liquid forming on the side of his skull that. You try to tear your eyes away and look at something else, but you're in an utterly bewildered state and curiosity is eating away at you. You notice his grin tighten and his eye lights getting smaller and sharper as the seconds drag on, taking their sweet time, wait did he just say something? but you're not thinking much about that.

 

Just what the  _ actual hell _ is going on? Are you dreaming? Having a nightmare? No, you can't be. You distinctly remember waking up today and playing video games until you got off your lazy ass to go walking, and now here you are. Although strange creatures roaming the streets does sound unreal and slightly terrifying, none of them seem to be threatening or dangerous, even the massive skeleton standing in front of you. But  _ why? _ Where did they come from? How many of them are there? When and how did this happen?

 

You recall your weekend, consisting of playing games, sleeping, and eating unhealthy amounts of ramen noodles and macaroni and cheese (as well as a number of other unhealthy foods in general). Perhaps a scientific association launched some kind of project and broadcasted it on the news. You never really watch the news; you haven't for a few months, in fact. Too depressing with all the murdering and the handful of other issues going on. You know that strictly humans were walking around since you were out of your apartment Thursday for work. It was now three days later and you have had no contact with the outside world since you got home the other day. Maybe you did miss something. You probably  _ should  _ start watching the news again. You're a mature adult, you can handle it.

 

After about a minute of forced, awkward eye contact, you finally get out of your thoughts and squeak out, “Soooo, uh, yeah... um, nice meeting you Sans I'm going upstairs now bye.” Well wasn't that a smooth exit! You aren't too sure if you want to see him again or not. Practically running up the stairs, you didn't spare a glance back down until you near the top. You did feel a little bad for dropping him like that, but the damage has already been done. Sans is still looking at you, a  _ clearly _ amused expression on his face. Probably the  _ fucking eyebrows _ gave that away for you. Two ridges of bone you know weren’t there before have  _ magically  _ appeared.

Huh. So skeletons have eyebrows. Well, the more you know.

 

As you turn your head forward, you’re about to round the corner and up the last step when you smack right into somebody. You lose your footing, and your hand’s not on the supporting rail  _ fucking hell the one time you don’t use it _ . You’re falling backward to the inclined ground, your hands stuck in the prison of your hoodie, unable to leave fast enough.

 

“AHHHH-!”

 

Before the stairs would warmly embrace you as it did Sans, strong and sturdy arms wrap around you at the last second. You look up to your savior and find. Oh. Another skeleton.

 

You've seen enough today that you’ve been forced to accept the surprises in your recent life would never cease. This skeleton had a warm smile(?) on his(?) face, albeit a worried(?) one. He looks slightly different from Sans; somehow even taller, lanky, and obviously agiler. He doesn't have white lights in his eye sockets, ones that aren't as round as the other's, and he had very noticeable eyebrows (bonebrows? Whatever it's for the same purpose). Gracefully, he swoops you upright and helps you to your feet on the second floor, away from the stairs.

 

When you find your balance, he pulls his hands away and you attempt to give him a small smile that you hope didn't seem too strained. That was the closest contact you've had with anyone for a while, and you can't help but flush in response. Regaining your bearings, you see that this guy absolutely TOWERS over you. And you think Sans is tall. How he even got in here… or anywhere for that matter, is something you'll always spend pondering at night. He’s wearing some sort of armor set with red boots, red gloves, and a bright red scarf wrapped around his neck to match everything. It's actually kind of cute, in an innocent little kid kind of way. You feel more at ease around this taller skeleton, and you finally realize that he's spouting an apology at you as well as the culprit with the deafening voice. And you thought it was bad far away.

 

“-SORRY, HUMAN!!! I SHOULD WATCH WHERE I AM GOING. I DO HOPE THAT YOU’RE NOT INJURED. I HIGHLY DOUBT YOU ARE, FOR I, THE GREAT PAPYRUS, HAVE SAVED YOU FROM FALLING ALL THE WAY DOWN THE STAIRS!!” Papyrus, you're safe to assume, is peering boldly down at you. His teeth are curved upwards in a wide, genuine smile, and his brows are set in a quirky position. He seems to be waiting for something. You remember to talk after standing there stupidly, trying to get a grip on yourself, but it's not exactly easy with your headache and being directly in front of the source of it like an ant under a magnifying glass on a sunny day.

 

“Y-yeah. You can just call me (Y/n),” you finally manage to say. “And it's okay, I'm fine, it was my fault. Thank you for catching me.”

 

‘Papyrus’ must have noticed the way you were flinching because he lowers his voice slightly for his next words. “YOU'RE VERY WELCOME!”

 

“Pfffft, I'd hate to end up like that other guy.” You find yourself smiling at the memory of Sans falling down the stairs, and then you start laughing. You don't consider yourself the mean type, but you feel downright cruel right now. He fell down the stairs! That was fucking  _ hilarious! _ The only thing that helps you cope with your conflicted feelings is that he didn't get hurt… you think. Papyrus only tilts his head, clearly concerned. The fact that they are both skeletons finally clicks and you wonder if the two are related. This, and Papyrus' next words falter your giggles, but they don't cease. More accurately, they can't cease.

 

“OH, SOMEONE ELSE HAD FALLEN?!? ARE THEY OKAY???” He is already striding over to the stairs, and you just stand there in your place processing all of it. Oh, you are deeming Papyrus a precious cinnamon roll that should be protected. He’s so--

  
“what's so  _ humerus _ ?”


	2. Dire Fallacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are misunderstandings in a certain someone's POV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT -- just sauced it up a lil

A very familiar deep voice speaks _directly behind you_ and you practically jump high enough to match Papyrus' height. You choke on your laughter, and a rather quiet sound not quite like screaming escapes you. How in the actual hell did he get behind you? You know for sure he didn't walk up those stairs after Papyrus had caught you; you would've seen him. You would've heard him, too. Well, actually, considering Papyrus' half-yelling, you highly doubt you could have. Either way, he did _not_ climb those stairs, and a shiver actually runs through your body.

 

You whirl around to face Sans, breathing rather heavily. There's something… sinister about the look on his face. His eye lights are barely visible in his dark sockets, and his grin is a little… too wide. You involuntarily shudder again. Oh, _shit_ , you're in for it now. He’s upset with you, probably for laughing at him with his little “incident.” You glance over at Papyrus. He doesn't seem to notice your distress in the slightest. He’s peering down the stairs for its victim, then he hastily parades to the lower level, needing to duck his head to not hit the ceiling and he's out of sight in seconds. There goes your comfort, but now you know he has to duck practically 24/7. You can hear him hollering about “stairs” and “falling,” but you can't process it correctly through the true and absolute fear cloaking your mind. At least he didn’t trip and fall.

 

Your breathing grows ragged and faster as your eyes dart back to the tall yet shorter skeleton, and you can tell his fists are clenched in his pockets. You will yourself to calm down before you hyperventilate because that is not the proper solution in a situation like this. Besides, you’re in a kinda crowded pet shop. What could Sans possibly do to you, throw kittens in your face? Relaxing slightly and fighting a smile at the mental image of him chucking a cat across the room, you attempt to deftly walk away from him to save yourself from pissing off someone almost twice your size even more than you already have.

 

The answer to your previous question comes when he suddenly clutches onto your upper arm as you turn away, yanking you towards him. In fact, that's the only answer you've gotten today and the only one that you _really didn't want to know._

 

Okay. So. _Now_ seems like the perfect time to panic. BUT NOT AT THE DISCO, DAMNIT!

 

~~~

 

Sans didn't ask for this. None of it. All he wanted to do was nap a little longer and not deal with anything. He didn’t want to do _any_ of this today. Not get out of bed, not go to the pet shop (he just couldn’t say no to Papyrus and he sure as hell wasn’t letting him go alone), not spot you at the bottom of the steps, and definitely not fall down them. However, that event was more galling than painful, and you seriously caught him off guard with your gawking. Why would you pore over him like that? It was weird, and he was digging through his skull for any obvious reasons when disaster struck. Should’ve just looked down before going and maybe he wouldn’t have met you and maybe he wouldn’t have to deal with any more shit today!

 

_especially right now_ . He glares at your frightened form, his grip very harsh on your arm. You were about to get away, and Sans is not going to let that happen. Nonetheless, he doesn’t necessarily _want_ to have this little chat with you. Some things just have to be done, though. It’s too bad, really. You were shaping up to be someone nice, maybe even an acquaintance or ally. He’s suddenly glad that he came with Papyrus because it seems like you’re asking for trouble, and he knows his little brother wouldn’t come close to giving you what you deserve, no matter what else you would’ve done to him if Sans hadn’t intervened.

 

He’s already misanthropic and surfacing only deteriorated what minuscule amounts of respect he had for humanity. The populace of this city has been so callous and insolent towards monsters as if they aren’t living things with thoughts and feelings, as if they’re despicable, as if they’re evil creatures that should be banished to the next world. Wherever Sans and Papyrus went, someone had to make some kind of snide remark or be so downright terrified of the two. Sans knows that you’re just like every other person in this damn city, even if you seemed different at first. He saw for himself with your synthetic actions, then you turn right around and laugh at his brother like… like you had a right to do that, like you thought it was _funny_. Just the thought makes him livid, and he doesn't consider _loosening_ his already strong hold, resulting in an anguished cry from you.

 

Sans had absolutely nothing to worry about with you. Or so he thought. You simply wanted to know if he was okay, so he gave you a chance, and you _were_ doing pretty good. After he face-planted on the floor (which did in fact hurt, just a little), he didn’t want to move from his position on the ground. To stand up, he would have to put in… effort. He’s a rather indolent individual. A short rest there -- physically and psychologically -- would’ve been real nice. But then you had to start talking to him. Honestly, that part is a little surprising, because why would a human willingly be that cordial to a monster, let alone worry about one’s well-being? Of course Sans wouldn’t just ignore you after that bit, no matter how much he wanted to do just that. Following through with that would only draw more undesired attention, so he played along and did what he does best. He smiled, blabbed puns, and was lazy. At least you liked the jokes he half-assed because he had literally nothing better to say. That was the _second_ good sign, which in itself is respectable.

 

After he was picked up from off the ground, you would _not_ stop staring at him, and it was uncomfortable as all hell, even more so than any other stares he gets. He had to stop himself from sweating bullets or merely walking away out of nervousness several times. Even after introductions, your small yet strong hand held onto his bigger one so tightly, but it was in an aloof manner, like you didn’t realize it right away. You were probably thinking way too hard, judging by the distant look in your eyes. Maybe you didn’t think it was _that_ noticeable to others, but he couldn’t really care because he just wanted his hand back in its default and comfortable location. Not that your hand wasn’t comfortable -- it was really squishy, like some of the fleshier (or rather furrier) monsters he knows, but also different in its own weird way. Comfortable, as in not tense, relaxed. As he mulled over the fact that you’re distressing yet pleasant at the same time, your hand tore away faster than he could dodge an attack. It was kind of funny, watching you get all worked up over such a simple thing. You apologized, and he felt that he could finally relax a bit without your eyes transfixed to him like there was a big-ass crack in his skull or something.

 

Shortly after he began speaking again, however, you started scrutinizing him again. He seriously had to _try_ and keep it together because he almost lost his cool. Sans decided he does not like being stared at. An overused pun and vague response were all he could get out as a result. The best part, you didn’t even pick up on his humor! And if Sans thought the conversation couldn’t have gotten any more awkward, then he hasn’t been more wrong in his entire life. He actually started to sweat, despite his endeavor to hold it back. You had appeared to be thinking painstakingly hard again (he’s deemed thinking a very dangerous activity for you) like you wanted to say something more, but just couldn’t get whatever it was out. He tried another one of his overused puns on you, but you didn’t even seem to acknowledge it.

 

Sans was about to break off the intense staring contest when you abruptly said your goodbyes and bounded up the stairs. Well, it was a little curt, but he looked after you all the same. You even turned around to glance at him on the final steps, what for he doesn’t know, but that very sophisticated exit was gratifying. Next thing he knew, you ascent the last few stairs straight into Papyrus and start falling from the impact’s backlash. Though thanks to his quick reflexes, Papyrus caught you and you landed safely in his arms. Both you and soon Papyrus disappear from the landing, but Sans wasn’t about to let that interaction go unsupervised. Not after the way humans have been treating both of them these past few days.

 

One shortcut later and Sans was a safe distance from being exposed by either you or his younger brother. He couldn’t quite hear (you), but he could see. Papyrus, being the kind-hearted monster he is, apologized. It wasn't even his fault. Sans’ smile had lifted. His bro is just so cool. He had to gauge your reaction to that.

 

...

 

You grimaced, smirked, and then you _laughed_. Papyrus’ face fell next.

 

Nothing else mattered to Sans at that point. His fury was sweltering. His hands clenched into fists. His grin grew into something manic. If you had just fucking hurt his baby brother _right there_ , you must _really_ want a bad time.

 

Sans watched Papyrus move towards the stairs while you stayed where you were, still laughing. Oh, Sans was gonna wipe that stupid smirk off your damn face. He promptly teleported behind you. You were completely oblivious and so explicitly moronic.

 

A fearful sound left you as you were startled into the air, and you stopped snickering at the sound of his daunting voice. You turned around and visibly trembled. Sans had felt marginally satisfied. You **should** be afraid of him. He struggled to not have his eye lights fade out of existence, but he was ( **_still is_ ** ) _really fucking pissed_. The amount of sheer anger and resentment only increased when you try to get a glimpse of Papyrus as if he were your personal alleviation or lifesaver. Your breathing got very uneven before it steadied again, and apparently, you thought you were smart when you were really just presumptuous and failed to see it as you turned away in a poor attempt to flee.

 

_you little bitch!_ He seized your arm roughly before you could saunter away.

 

Because Sans had to get a few things through your head before you go anywhere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow Sans really didn't take any of that the right way


	3. Don't Threaten Me With a Good(?) Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone's pissed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT -- more pizazz

Your eyes widen with visible fear at the touch because shiT IT’S STRONG AND YOU’RE DAMNED _TERRIFIED_ . You stumble, and before you can really scream, the floor feels like it's shifting. You think you would have fallen by now if it wasn't for the iron grip Sans had on you that just kept getting even more ungodly tight as the seconds pass, and you don't know if you should be glad or not. Suddenly, everything… vanishes. It’s just gone. There’s no pet shop anymore. No dull sunshine streaming in through the dirty windows. There’s no shouting or barking or the clatter of various items clanking together. It’s just a dark, black, terrifying emptiness, so silent that it’s deafening. You need to scream. You need to shout. You need to do _something_ that makes any kind of noise because you _can’t take it_. Then, as quickly as it came, it went. The world is still spinning as you stood in darkness that wasn't quite as intense as… whatever that was. There's a narrow blur of light just in front of your shoes, coming from what you hope is the exit to the outside world, and it barely illuminates the room.

 

You think that if you weren’t dizzy, disorientated, and fighting against your body that wants to discard the instant noodles you ate a few hours ago, you would most definitely be out that door by now. Squeezing your eyes shut, your hands grope in front of you for something stable. You find a wall and lean against it, taking deep, heaving breaths, trying to focus and not think at the same time. That empty, desolate, oblivion had not been pleasant. And now this feeling in the center of your chest won't go away. You think for a panicked moment that you're having a heart attack or something of the like, but shouldn't those... hurt? The sensation leaves you feeling a little numb and heavy, and kind of cold, too. Or maybe light and warm…? No matter what, it's still unlike anything you've ever experienced. You try to think about it more to pinpoint exactly what it is, but your efforts are soon transported to not passing out and keeping your lunch down.

 

Eventually, your breathing is slow enough to be considered normal and you open your eyes to two piercing white lights right in your face that help to dimly light up the small area, which you take to be a supply closet. Your hands twitch, itching to pick up a broom to smack Sans across the face with it, but found you didn't have much energy left to so much as lift your arm. You're actually surprised he hasn't done what he planned to do yet. Standing around for five minutes and catching your breath against a wall seemed like the perfect opportunity for an easy murder or something. Although he was too close for comfort, he hasn't made any dubious movements, and he did let go of your arm at some point. You have to give him credit; he's patient. Should you be happy about that? Your arm is sore, but you think he is decent enough that he waited for you to function like a normal human, so you just opt to yell at him instead. It could've been from unease that somehow disappeared or your rage that had suddenly flared.

 

“What the HECK was that!? Where are we?” you shout at Sans, but you're mostly glad to be back on solid ground and not being dragged by him through God knows where. You forget the fact that he is someone who is much bigger than you and could most likely destroy you with a single touch.

 

Sans backs off a little, not much considering the size of the room, but enough for you and your personal space. As he did so, that strange feeling in your chest intensifies just the slightest. It’s definitely _not_ something light and warm. You lean more heavily against your wall and suck in a harsh, cold breath, feeling your shoulder blades dig into the wall. You try adjusting to get a little more comfortable, but to no avail, so you remain there, feeling heavier and watching Sans carefully. His eye lights rose a head as he straightened up, never once leaving you. “heh, wow. kinda impressed you took it so well.”

 

More anger wells up in you, but also pure exasperation. You just wanted hot chocolate, coffee, and puppies. But no. You only get skeletons and bullshit. An annoyed sigh blows past your lips. “Can you just answer my questions so we can both get on with our lives?” You replace your hands in your pocket with slight difficulty, gripping the contents tightly. Isn’t this why you never really leave your apartment? To not deal with the lemons that life pelts at you from all directions and tells you to make chocolate milk with it?

 

“mmm… no can do, _sugar_ ,” you hear rustling and feel something slip into your pocket. Something square and small and covered in paper.

 

…

 

Did he really just do that? Who just casually carries around packets of sugar with them?! Unsure if you want to laugh, cry, or cringe, you settle on remaining neutral for the rest of the conversation as best as you can.

 

Sans continues to speak as if that hadn't happened. “ _you_ are gonna answer some questions for _me_.”

 

He bends down to get all up in your face again, and you tense up. That feeling seemed to squeeze your chest, and you struggle not to gasp out. You're again reminded that he is a possible threat, one that is near twice your size, and decide you better just do what he says to get out of this safely. And alive. A tangy aroma drifted through the air when he got closer, and you recognize it as ketchup.

 

“Okay,” you say steadily when you can manage, albeit a little quietly.

 

Sans only grunts in response before stepping back once again, and you physically relax; your chest feels just a little lighter, but that weird, imperceptible weight is still there. Several minutes go by with his eye lights still trained on you, and you quickly find it uncomfortable, squirming under his judgemental gaze; you couldn't do much more than that, anyway. It's as if he's staring right _through_ you. Another chill crawls up your spine.

 

“so,” he finally starts after an eternity. “you've met my bro.” There is an undertone of pride in his words, and maybe it was just the dark room, but you swore you the lights in his sockets, as well as his smile, get a little softer and bigger. You guess he’s talking about Papyrus, the only other skeleton you've seen. You can't help but wonder who is the older brother. From what you've observed, you're putting your money on Sans, despite his height that says otherwise.

 

You nod weakly but remember a few seconds too late that you are adjacent to the faint light coming in under what you guess is a door and that Sans probably couldn't see you. He either noticed or didn't need an answer because he continues right on with his talking.

 

“saw how he caught you over the stairs. how you looked just a little flustered. the admiration in your eyes. you, laughing,” he finally stops his piercing glare directed at you to look off to the side. It gives you a little time to think without feeling like he could read your mind. He obviously got the wrong idea here and was giving you the Overprotective Big Brother Speech. You haven't seen anyone in _that_ way for a _long_ time, and it's not like you had eyes for the lanky skeleton, either. This was obviously a misunderstanding that you could easily clear up. At least you know Sans was doing this for his brother. It was really sweet, in a scary, crazy kind of way, but hey, you're not one to judge.

 

“y’know, i think he's just too good for this world. heh…” His gaze returns to you before you can agree with that statement. “he was looking a little _down_ -” a strangled rush of air escapes you and you feel yourself being pulled slowly, but forcefully, to the ground, “-as he was walking toward them, and, **pal** , i want to know exactly what you did to him-” your descent stops, but your chest clenches, a little painfully this time and you fail to stifle a whimper, “-because if you're the reason he isn't happy, then i sure do have a _bone to pick with you_.”

 

You feel very threatened, despite the pun you picked up on. It wasn't very funny in your current situation. So maybe he wasn't all that worried about someone breaking his little bro’s metaphorical heart right at this moment, but he just wanted to make sure he was happy. Which... also includes no one doing that. You aren't too sure what to do, because even if you do tell Sans you were everything but mean to Papyrus, he might not believe you, or he won't like the fact that you were laughing at him falling down the stairs. Hence, you decide to keep your mouth shut until he lets you talk and concentrate on not shaking.

 

“so, i have one last question for you, kiddo. well, it's not so much a question as a request,” he chuckles and turns away for a moment, but your sigh of relief gets stuck in your throat and turns into a choke as you watch him slowly turn back to you, leaning forward just the slightest, all light devoid in his sockets, leaving you with a silhouette straight out of a horror movie. You actually struggle to breathe for a few agonizing seconds that felt like hours, and you're not sure if it's the fear that spiked in your system or the crushing weight in your chest.

 

“ **s t a y  a w a y  f r o m  p a p y r u s.** ”

 

The pressure finally releases, and you stumble back up against your wall before you fall over from the suddenness of the action. You… can't keep your anger in check anymore. It boils just beneath your skin. Who… who does he think he is, telling you what to do and being an overprotective freak about his brother like he can't take care of himself or make his own choices?! What did he _do_ to you to make you unable to move and feel so heavy? The fear holding your rage down dissolves and you stand up straight, leaning off of your respected wall segment. You glare and point an accusatory finger in his general direction, and you think if the lights were on you would most definitely not be doing these things. The more rational side of your brain is screaming at you to _stop!_ Don’t continue what you’re thinking about doing! Of course, of all times, you push it away and lock it in a box and throw it to the farthest corner of your mind, because HOO BOY do you have some things to say to him. This time, you won’t let someone walk all over you because you’re weaker than them.

 

“What is your _problem!_ I was just having a conversation with him, and yeah, I was laughing, but not _at_ him! I actually thanked him for catching me, and I could already tell that I wouldn't ever want to see him hurt by anything but you are taking this a bit too far. He seemed nice and sweet, but I'm not one to parade after a guy I just met! He was just concerned when I told him someone else had fallen down the stairs and he went to go help and I started laughing… at that...” You shrunk back as you progressed through your wording, regretting everything you just did. Now Sans knows for a fact that you were laughing at his pain, and you curse yourself for being so bravely stupid as your fear and guilt rolls back in tenfold. But at least you cleared up the thing with Papyrus. You could take that accomplishment with you to your deathbed in a few moments.

 

Sans’ eye lights had blinked back into existence at some point during your shrieking, and to your surprise, he actually didn't seem that mad. Instead, he seemed almost… shocked? Impressed? You expected him to shout, fuming with rage and beating you to a bloody pulp. Still, you stay cowered back against your wall, and you frantically spew the first thing that comes to mind.

 

“I-I’m sorry, I really didn't mean to laugh at you or cause any trouble with your brother but please don't kill me Sans I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sor-”

 

“w-whoa, who said anything about killing here?” Sans interrupts your rambling, and he sounds genuinely uneasy.

 

You hesitantly lift your hands off from your face to peer at the skeleton, and you see that he is sweating again, the pale, coruscating driblets of blue rolling down unhurriedly. Maybe you just overreacted. He doesn't want to kill you, let alone hurt you. He’s just a guy who's worried about his family. You wish you could relate, but no memories or feelings magically appear as if on cue. Warily, you straighten up to your original position leaning on the wall, with no resistance this time, and look at him to see if he has any more to say.

 

“hey, ‘m sorry about scaring you that much, i just…” You wince as you hear the quiet yet rough sound of bone on bone, and you can faintly see him rubbing his hand against the back of his skull. “i just want paps to be happy. i sometimes get… carried away with protecting the people i care about. not everyone up here is nice, and… i really appreciate your kindness to him. we've come across some particularly bad people, and i… didn't want to take the chance here...” Sans looks to you again, and you can tell he wants you to accept his apology. You consider. He does feel remorse, and he was doing this for someone he loves so…

 

“Well, you didn't hurt me, give or take my sore bicep,” you pause to rub your arm and think of your now weightless chest, “and you are doing this for Papyrus, so... okay. I forgive you. As long as you don't turn around and kill me right after this.” You offer a smile to Sans, and he chuckles in response.

 

“heh, nah, i don't wanna hurt you. i could get used to people more like you. understanding… kind. ‘s nice, you're the first human that me or my bro talked to that hasn't been insanely rude since we got outta there. don’t worry, i won't mention all the staring that you've been doing.”

 

You blush, recalling that you _have_ been staring a lot, particularly at Sans, and you watch him wink his left eye socket again. Suddenly, you're glad the room is so dim. A puzzled expression must have shown on your face through everything though because he makes a quizzical sound before asking something that you think quite literally fragmented your mind into millions of useless chunks.

 

“...you stare… because you find it weird that i am a walking skeleton monster…”

 

Okay yeah sure just throw EVEN MORE THINGS YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND AT YOUR FACE AND EXPECT THEM TO SOAK INTO YOUR BRAIN AND ALLOW YOU TO UNDERSTAND.

 

“haven't you heard? that monsters have been freed from mount ebott?”


	4. Unearthed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get your hot chocolate slash coffee slash other hot beverage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT -- flamboyance attempted to be added

The only thing you can manage to do is gape at Sans, your face set as if you're figuring out a difficult math problem. The gears start turning in your head after several long minutes. Admittedly, they're still a little rusty.

 

But…

  
  


“so i’m guessing you didn't know. huh. that’s odd.” Sans’ baritone voice carries itself through your thoughts.

  
  


…No.

 

Did you manage to say that out loud?

  
  


“...uh… you okay?”

  
  


…

 

Monsters are real.

 

 _Monsters_ are _real._

 

Despite your efforts to form coherent and worthwhile sentences, you're only able to choke out the few words you're thinking.“...M-monsters... are… real…?”

  
  


“yyyyyyeeah. very real. i’m here, aren't i?”

  
  


…

  
  


“(y/n)?”

 

The sound of your name and the light touch on your arm brings you back to reality. You jump slightly, and what you take to be Sans’ hand jerks away from you.

 

Your mind is reeling with even more questions than before, and your voice is high-pitched and stressed as you’re only able to get a few of them out. “Wh-what?! What do you mean, ‘freed from Mount Ebott’? H-how-- how long have monsters been hiding away? I thought they didn't even exist!”

 

“looks like i’ve got some explaining to do,” he sighs and shuffles around a bit. “...it might take a while. hope you don't have any plans for the rest of today.”

 

Your plans (more accurately diversion) had been canceled long ago upon encountering the pair of skeletons. A pang of hurt rings through you at the sort-of loss. Although, you couldn’t help but wonder if Sans had ever tried hot chocolate… or if he could consume anything at all. He's a skeleton, wouldn't everything just literally go right through him? You decide you want to find out more about the monsters and your weird curiosities.

 

“...I was going to go to the coffee shop down the block from here after this. We could talk over there with some drinks,” you succeeded in calming down enough to function somewhat normally, therefore suggesting your idea. “On me,” you add, just for good measure. You could spare a few dollars today. He looks to be considering, anyway.

 

Sans shrugs. “heh, alright. can’t exactly say no to something free, can i?” You can hear the grin in his voice and roll your eyes at his comment, but you think you’d be saying the same thing if someone offered it to you, too. “just give me a sec to let papyrus know.” He pushes himself off the wall, and your suspicions of standing next to a door are confirmed when he turns the knob and opens it. Hey! He’s going to let his brother take care of himself after all! Maybe you knocked some sense into him with your speech.

 

Light streams into the room, which was indeed a supply closet, and your eyes take a moment to adjust. It's soon revealed, as you poke your head out the door, that you had simply moved a good fifteen feet from where you were standing no more than ten minutes ago.

 

...What the hell. You decide not to think about it until later. It's a good question to ask Sans when you get to the coffee place.

 

You step out of the small space and you're glad that no one was around you. That action would have looked very suspicious in anyone's eyes for a number of reasons. Sans isn't back yet, and your mind floats back to the puppies. Again. Oh whatever. You want something nice after today's events.

 

With the same energy of the kids downstairs, you speed walk along the aisles to the series of barks and whimpers coming from within the kennels. You never liked how they were on display in those little cages all day, but it is the better option for them, over the pound or being a stray. At least all the attention they get makes them happy, even only for a short time.

 

The sight of the canines when you finally get there is relaxing, and you do feel better. You automatically reach a hand out to a copper-colored Cocker Spaniel, then freeze. Well… there's no one around. You smirk deviously; aren’t you quite the rebel today? Your hand closes the distance, slipping in between the metal, and you pet the top of its head and behind its ears. It reminds you of your dog when you still lived with… your dad… Oh.

 

The longer you look at all the puppies clawing at the metal, the worse you feel. The smile on your lips fades away as you mentally board the bad feels train and just think about every single terrible thing possible in your life, and you _let_ yourself do that. Is it because you don’t really deserve anything? Because you can’t do _anything_ right? Because you’re so broken you can’t even be happy--

 

 _No._ Don’t feel guilty for doing what’s best for you. And now you’re doing what’s best for you. Smile, be happy, you _can_ , you-

 

“you ready to go?”

 

“SHIT!” you swear loudly. You yank your hand away from the ball of fluff, getting stuck for a few seconds trying to get it out of the crate, and the pooch just cocks its head at you curiously. Turning on your heel, you flush at your outburst and obvious struggle. “D-don’t do that!”

 

The grin on Sans’ face is undeniably smug as he shrugs and coolly questions, “what, talk to you?”

 

“No! That-- that thing when you sneak up behind me all quiet and then you-- ugh, never mind. It's not like you'll listen to me anyways,” you huff and cross your arms in frustration, giving Sans your hardest glare. His smile just gets bigger, satisfied with your reaction. “I can't believe you made me say a cuss word. Audibly. Noisily. _Out loud._ ” Your irritation grew with each word you murmur and even you know you sound ridiculous. Who _doesn’t_ cuss these days?

 

Sans snorts, “wait, wait, so, you're saying that's the first time you've said ‘shit’ or anything? oh stars that's hilarious, i feel blessed to have been the first and only one to witness that.”

 

You start giggling with him, even though you’re still a little annoyed. “I think that stuff in my head all the time anyways, I just don't say it out loud. It's immature and dumb when people talk like that every other word in their sentence, but honestly, that makes what they're saying like, ten times funnier. I’m not any better than them, though, I guess.”

 

You thought Sans couldn't smile any wider. But you were so wrong. You actually thought his face might crack from how wide it was, stretching from ear to nonexistent ear, and you’re astonished at how malleable his face really is. “let’s just get tha fuck outta here and leave all these cunts with their bullshit to drink some damn coffee, bitch.”

 

“Was that really necessary?” you laugh heartily and even more so when he doesn't even make an attempt to move.

 

“as necessary as the air we breath, my friend,” he gestures to the space around you, taking both hands out of his pockets and waving them in the air. You raise an eyebrow at him because skeletons shouldn't need to breathe with their lack of organs and all. You may not know much about monsters right now, but that has to be a fact.

 

...Right? Duh, of course. Skeletons, bones. No flesh or blood or lungs. Nothing.

 

“what, don't think i need oxygen, too? i’m hurt,” he feigns a whine and slaps a hand against his chest and stumbles back into a shelf as if you had actually pulled out a knife and stabbed him with it.

 

Rolling your eyes is the only choice you have right now to react to his stupidity. “You don't even _have_ organs! How can you breathe?” you shoot back.

 

“oh no, you bastard, i’m hit, ah, fuckin’ help me or suck a dick you asshole,” his monotonic sarcasm made you laugh even harder than you have in a while.

 

“I’m leaving!” you declare when you’re capable. You swat at his arm, pushing past him to the stairs. You couldn't help it when your smile grew at the word he used to describe you moments ago, and he wasn’t even threatening you! _Friend_. It may not have been as genuine as you took it to be, but you let yourself hope, just this once. Maybe... maybe this will work out.

 

Turning around before descending the steps, two middles fingers in your face was enough for you to start snickering again.

 

\---

 

You're sitting in a booth at the coffee shop across from Sans, more perplexed than you think you’ve ever been in your life. You’ve both ordered your drinks and he started explaining what he called “the basics” which really don't seem that basic to you. Wars from forever ago, fucKING MAGIC (you thought it didn't exist, just like any other sane human being, and you were disappointed to learn that humans had once used it to lock away the entire monster race underground and take the lives of many others by “dusting” them while not one human was killed), determination (what), souls (and it’s not totally a spiritual thing??), dead children (lawsuits?), goat royalty (what), an evil flower (what). Honestly, it was just a handful of things that made no sense.

 

The whole concept of souls left you bemused. Different colors (you couldn’t help but wonder what color your soul was and thought to bring it up to Sans later), how physical matter and magic ties into it, boss monster souls, and stats. It sounded like some sort of sick, twisted RPG from that point on. HP, ATK, DEF, EXP, LV. All gaming terms that you know and love. Until now that is. It's scary to imagine that you'd just be casually playing a video game when in reality you're killing _live people,_ and all just for some stats _._ He mentioned something about each human soul having magic (which sent you over the edge because YOU CAN DO MAGIC EVEN IF YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT IT DOES YET) that directly ties to the trait that human has, along with determination. You couldn’t help but notice the slight hesitation in his words, the tension in his smile, like you were missing something...

 

“...So. There was a ‘war,’” you use finger quotes to emphasize your point of the clear advantage your species had, “because humans were scared of monsters taking their souls, monsters lost, and have been trapped in Mount Ebott for hundreds of years. And... some eight year old fell down a hole and freed you all with ‘determination’…?”

 

“yeah, that's pretty much the big idea,” Sans sips his caramel macchiato, deep in thought. You’re overall pleased to see that he enjoys it after you blindly recommended it, even though you had to stop him from adding a ketchup packet to it. Now you know he carries those around, too. Also that he likes ketchup enough to drink it like he needs it to live and function. Eh, maybe he does. Adding that to his coffee would’ve just ruined it, so of course, you wouldn’t let that happen. “i didn't really detail you on the finer points, though.”

 

Okay damn there must be a lot to this then. This whole thing distracts you from asking important questions, like how he can possibly drink anything without it running all over the ground. “And this happened a few days ago?” You blow on your steaming beverage in a poor attempt to cool it faster.

 

“thursday at sunset to be exact.” Ah. The time you chose to shut everything out. That's why you didn't know anything. Sans looks to you and asks, “got any more questions?”

 

Briefly glancing around the cozy shop, you see several other customers peering viciously over their own cups of caffeine at you and Sans before they turn their heads and mind their own damn fucking business. “Yes. If everyone is so hateful towards monsters, how did you and the others find a place to live? How can you walk into places and not feel… uncomfortable?”

 

“monster currency is straight up gold coins, and humans find it very valuable apparently, so papyrus and i found a neighborhood that wasn't so... negative towards us, tossed a few coins their way, and now we live in a two-bedroom apartment. people were initially shocked at first, so monsters could get away with more that first day and night. paps has a red convertible, it was the first thing he bought because he was so excited. and, it’s not that i don’t get upset with all these people,” he turns and stares down a woman who hasn’t stopped leering at him since he set foot inside, and she scoffs (a little fearfully) before turning her attention to the guy in front of her and whispering whatever disparaging comments she had.

 

Wait, whAT DID HE SAY?

 

“...but we’re just different and new to humans and being on the surface. some places are very reluctant to let monsters in, if at all, and we just gotta deal. no matter how irritating it gets,” Sans growls, anger very obvious in his words.

 

Monsters are one thing, but the fact that their money is _gold_. It just. Wow. If that was their money system, monsters probably have a lot of it. For your sake, you hope drastic inflation doesn't happen because the prices of everything are already high enough.

 

“Could I see one of them? A gold coin?” you ask, one to satiate your curiosity, and two, to change the topic because you already know you did not like it when Sans was angry.

 

“sure,” Sans lightens up considerably and holds up two phalanges. Suddenly a coin appears between them. Okay, that was cool but WHAT AND HOW?

 

...Freaking magic.

 

“heh, it's not magic. well, i guess technically it is, but the kid could do this too. i just pulled it out of my inventory,” Sans essentially reads your mind, and you only think about video games again. Because all of this just sounds like it.

 

“Do I have an inventory too?” you ask as you hold out your hand. He drops the coin in your palm. You resist holding it above your head and shouting “You got the Gold Coin!” as if you were playing the Legend of Zelda. It was a simple, thin gold disc, maybe a little bigger than a quarter, and it was really shiny.

 

“that's one of them in better shape. there’re a few beat up ones, but i guess it's still worth a lot,” Sans shrugs.

 

“Hell YEAH it is! This is so cool!” You set the gold coin down on the table.

 

“on the inventory question, you tell me. can you make that go into it?” he looks at you with pure, genuine curiosity.

 

“How am I supposed to force it into my inventory if we don't even know if I have one?” you exclaim incredulously like he suggested you jump off a building.

 

“i dunno, just… try?” he offers.

 

“Real helpful, thanks,” you exhale a burst of air as Sans replies with a flat “you're welcome”. Just… Try… You close your eyes and focus on the gold coin in front of you. You think hard about it to go into your inventory… and how fucking _stupid_ this is. He probably _is_ just messing with you, making you look like a braindead idiot in a coffee shop. Your eyes open to find the coin gone. “Sans, I swear, if this is a trick-”

 

“it's not!” Sans shoots back defensively. “not in my hands, see?” He holds up his hands and to his credit, they are empty. “you really did make it go into your inventory. i’m pretty sure... that's interesting. how could humans not know they have those?”

 

“Whoa, really?” You don't know how (mostly the process and logic), but you managed to do it. Though, you don't feel different. You expected something like a weight, but you feel the same as before. To test your theory on Sans just screwing with you, you will the coin to appear in front of you again; this time without closing your eyes. Sure enough, within a few seconds, it materializes from thin air.

 

“Oh my gosh this is so cool this could seriously come in handy,” you squeal like a fangirl and continue testing your newfound ability. First, your hot drink. It fades from existence, and a warm sensation flows through your body. You whoop and target another object, a small stack of napkins. But they didn’t do anything.

 

“Sans, it’s not working anymore!” you whine and bring back your beverage, curling your hands around it once again and savoring the warmth pooling from it.

 

“huh, maybe that’s your limit. frisk could always hold about eight items with them at a time, but maybe it was because of the magic concentration underground, and most of those were magic items…” Sans dives back into whatever world he goes into when talking about the past or something sciency, and his eye lights get a little fuzzy. You absently sip your hot chocolate, then another question crosses your mind.

 

“Hey, Sans?” you start. You put your cup down on the table and watch him carefully.

 

“yeah?” he questions as he collects himself from his thoughts and looks back at you before shifting his gaze to his own drink nestled between his boney hands.

 

“How did we move from the middle of the room to that supply closet at the pet shop? And does that have anything to do with a... weird weight that was on my chest?” You shiver slightly recalling the memories.

 

“...” Sans’ grip on his macchiato tightens just the slightest, eye lights dimming only a second, before responding with, “don’t worry ‘bout it, (y/n).”

 

That seemed to be the end of the conversation, and you didn’t press him further, even if that was the only thing you wanted to do right now.

 

“Okay.”

 

Silence settles between you both. The whispers of other patrons and the soft music floating out of the speakers are the only things you hear for the next few minutes. Then Sans slides a small piece of paper towards you. You perk up and glance at it, then back to him. He gestures for you to pick up the paper. You raise an eyebrow, but you grasp it in your hands and start reading what’s written on it in your head.

 

_thanks for the coffee._

_heres my # lets stay in touch._

_-sans_

 

You simper at the simple sweetness of the note and at the phone number scribbled at the bottom of the page. When you look up again, Sans is gone.

 

You punch the number into your phone contacts. This new friendship is going to be an interesting one to sail.

 

~~~

 

Sans approaches his younger brother in the pet store. Papyrus is browsing the fish and it doesn't take long for him to notice Sans.

 

“OH, SANS! HOW WAS YOUR COFFEE WITH THAT HUMAN, (Y/N)?”

 

“great, bro,” Sans smiles lazily up at him. “it was a  _ latte _ fun.” Heh. He’d have to remember that one for you.

 

“SANS! PLEASE!! NO MORE PUNS!” Papyrus drawls out a long, annoyed sigh, but quickly bounces back to his usual self. “ANYWAYS! I THINK I MAY WANT TO PURCHASE ONE OF THESE-” he points to a tank of goldfish enthusiastically, “-AS A PET INSTEAD! I FIGURED IT WOULD BE JUST LIKE TAKING CARE OF YOUR ROCK! THAT WAY YOU COULD HELP CARE FOR IT, TOO, BECAUSE I KNOW YOU'RE STILL TOO LAZY TO TAKE CARE OF ANYTHING THAT REQUIRES MORE MAINTENANCE. IT'LL HELP YOU AS WELL, BROTHER, BECAUSE PETS ARE SUPPOSED TO MAKE PEOPLE HAPPIER!!”

 

“i don't know, paps, i’m perfectly fine with my pet rock, and it might get a liiiiiitle jealous with a new friend. especially if we give them more attention, which is what fish need more than rocks. i’m not too sure if we can get another pet with it around,” he reasons, trying to sound as convincing as possible.

 

Sans knows the rock wouldn't give a fuck either way. It’s more like Sans doesn't want to take care of an  _ actual  _ pet that could  _ actually _ die if he forgot or was too lazy to feed it one day. He loves his brother, but this was just another unnecessary thing they shouldn't get. Buying a fish and making Sans take care of it would not make him happier, but for Papyrus to think of him like that really touched him. He knows Sans isn’t very happy all the time, and all he wants to do is help him. Sometimes it really gets on Sans’ nerves. Sometimes it makes him feel a little more cheerful for the rest of the day. Sometimes it makes him feel so… ashamed of himself. He knows he should be trying,  _ wanting _ to get better, especially now, and if not for himself then for Papyrus, but...

 

“THAT'S NO EXCUSE, SANS!! I'M SURE THEY'LL GET ALONG SOMEDAY! AND IF YOU DO FORGET TO FEED OUR DEAR SWIMMY, I CAN!!! THERE ARE NO PROBLEMS HERE!!” With his final words spoken, Papyrus strolls off for assistance with the fish. Welp. Sans supposes he has a pet fish named Swimmy now. Yay.

 

Sans' phone dings with the alert of a text message as Papyrus struggles to choose which fish he wants. Huh. Maybe it was you. He pulls up the texting app and chuckles at what was sent. Responding quickly with a vague answer and saving you as a contact, he puts his phone away to see Papyrus happily clutching a bag with a goldfish swimming around inside. Sans had to admit, Papyrus chose a really cool one. It is quite a small fish, and its golden hue had an ombre effect, a light and easy orange-yellow at its head and a dark, vibrant burnt orange near its tail fin.

 

“looks cool, bro,” says Sans honestly as both brothers head towards the exit, savoring the look of utmost shock at the lady behind the counter who was given a few gold coins as payment for a round, glass bowl, fish food, and a stupid, simple goldfish. More than once, Sans finds himself smiling, almost genuinely, but it’s not because of his brother's rambling about everything as he drives them home (though, Sans could always find a reason to smile when he was with Papyrus, and this was often one of them).

 

Heh, Sans has only known you for, what, an hour or so? And now you had each other's numbers and would be contacting one another frequently. He’d never make friends with a human; the very race that had his friends and family trapped underground; the cold hearted, hateful, cruel, and merciless creatures; the _true_ _monsters_. Yet, here he is. Before, when he only saw the stale, crisp, white flakes of Snowdin, he’d think to belittle himself, tell himself to completely and utterly distrust you if this companionship between you two continued. Because you were a human, and they simply did not deserve things like sympathy or benevolence or compassion. They’d take and take and break and take some more and then be upset at the end, like they have a right to, like someone _else_ had taken things from them and broken their valuables.

 

And yet, yet… through all these clear, compelling emotions, Sans feels like he…  _ wants _ to be friends with you. He hasn’t been more befuddled, truly astonished in his life, and thinking about it for more than a few minutes just hurts. Maybe it’s because he wants to believe you’re different, but hell, you’ve already proved that you are. At this point in the day, all he wants to do is sleep and hope that everything is just magically going to pull itself together so Sans doesn’t have to spend another goddamn  _ second _ thinking about how confusing and messed up everything in his head is. But he already knows that’s not going to happen, so, of course, he still pushes it off to the side to think about later and deprecates himself silently in the passenger seat as he focuses all his attention and energy on Papyrus’ rambles, his hands occupied with holding the fish stuff.

 

Sans smiles, half out of habit, half out of absolute honest-to-god joy. At least his brother is still cool through everything that’s happened between the pair of them. 

 

~

 

-(some kind of pun on (y/n)): How do you even drink coffee without it going right through you (•_•)

 

-me: a latte magic (¬‿¬)

  
  
  


*1 unread message(s)*

 

4:31 pm

-(some kind of pun on (y/n)): Of fucking course it is


	5. Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a regular day at work

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT -- madeitjuicy

*beep beep b **eep beep beEP BEEP BE--** *

 

Your hand frantically slams down several times before hitting the snooze button early that next morning. 7:30 am. You have to go to work today. You pull yourself out of bed and force yourself to get around for the day. Starting in the shower, you turn on some music and quickly scrub yourself down in the warm water while singing along to a few songs. With a renewed energy (Panic! always seems to lift your spirits and make you excited for everything), you put on your uniform, eat breakfast, set the dirty bowl and spoon in the sink (pshhh, since when would you want to make bacon and pancakes then have to clean up  _ that _ mess? CEREAL, BITCH), then finish up with brushing your teeth and applying a little makeup to look presentable. When you’re satisfied, you grab your keys, lock up your apartment, and head to your car. It’s 8:21, you discover as you stare at the digital clock in your car. Still about half an hour before you actually have to be at work. Oh well, that just means you can listen to more music before you go in for work. You smile widely as you plug your phone into auxiliary and play more P!ATD. There’s nothing wrong with getting even more hyped for the sure-to-be-boring day at work.

 

Ten minutes later and you’re parked in the back of Ace Diner screaming song lyrics. Even over the beat of some of the heavier rock tunes that play, your mind strays to the events of yesterday. Should you text Sans? You would ask him to hang out, but you don’t even know if he’d be too busy to or not. Say hello? What about after that? ‘Hey, I know virtually nothing about you so go ahead and tell me everything’ doesn’t sound like the best way to approach him in telling you stuff you need/want to know. He still hasn’t read your text responding to the obscure yet still very clear answer of him drinking coffee, and you’re not one to double text people...

 

Fuck it he’s just gonna have to deal with your shit.

 

With an insane grin that almost matches the one Sans had when he was pissed at you, you type out a conversation starter.

 

-Me: Hey I’m going to be working soon but if you respond I can text you on my break around 2 or afterward

 

Sans doesn’t read your text, but before you can mope about it you’re running your ass inside because you lost track of time and you’re going to be late. Thankfully, you actually do make it on time, clock in, and say hi to a few of your coworkers before you start your work of waiting tables and carrying trays of food and drinks.

 

“Hey, Stephanie, Aaron, Reese.”

 

“Hey, (Y/n)!” “Hi, (Y/n).” “So you totally heard about monsters, right! What do you think!”

 

You simply gawk at Reese with her random comment. Of course, that shouldn’t have surprised you; that’s basically normal. She bobs her blue-dyed short hair up and down as if she can’t contain her excitement, purple eye contacts looking back at you intensely. She dyes her hair a different color at least every week and changes her colored contacts frequently. You know she has gray eyes that she absolutely hates because it’s so “dull and boring”, and you honestly don’t know her natural hair color. Reese is a very... interesting person who is ambitious and loves to try new things, and you’ve taken a liking to her because of her animated attitude. She adds just the right amount of spice in the workplace to make it a little less mundane without it getting out of hand (most of the time; there was one time when she was screwing around with a box of matches and she accidentally set Marco on fire).

 

“Uh, yeah, I have. They’re pretty cool, I guess,” you reply. You turn to Stephanie and Aaron. “What about you two?” Stephanie is your classic white girl. She’s tall (probably taller than six feet at this point), has long, blonde hair pairing with dark blue eyes, and is certainly the eye candy for all the young men that walk into this cheap diner. Though she can be very naive, she is always nice and you swear her energy radiates off of her and goes to everyone else. You’ve grown to be close to Stephanie over the years, but nothing more than the occasional text asking to cover a shift. Simply acquaintances. She reminds you a little of Papyrus, now that you have that comparison.

 

Aaron is someone who you believe probably sells drugs in his free time. He’s very reserved and seldom talks about his life, and his whole attitude is real shady. Not only that, but he’s clever and seems to know how to handle any situation. Aaron’s job is usually going around and picking up dirty dishes, and he sure does turn heads when he walks through the place. He’s taller than you, and his flowing black hair and pale green eyes are a startling contrast that looks... good. You’re cool with him, but it’s not like you trust him with your life or anything.

 

Stephanie brightens up, while Aaron makes a disapproving sound.

 

“Well, DUH! It’s all over the news, and they’re super freaking rich! I see monsters walk down the street all the time and they look so cool,” Stephanie rambles on and on about monsters, and you’re glad that you’re not the only one that supports them.

 

“They’re just a bunch of freaks in my opinion,” Aaron interjects coldly. You narrow your eyes at him.  _ BITCH, fight me.  _ “I don’t think it was cool shutting them underground for hundreds of years, but they can find somewhere else to live that’s not here.” At least he agrees on not trapping them underground…?

 

Reese gasps at Aaron. “Whoa whoa whoa! No! Monsters aren’t freaks! They’re just different, is all. They’re hella cool, and I’ve tried to talk to as many monsters as I can. Honestly, so many closed-minded people these days…”

 

Stephanie and Reese begin talking excitedly about monsters and Aaron just walks away, done with the pair of them always babbling excessively. You roll your eyes playfully and decide to get started on your work. Even though it’s Monday morning and this diner doesn’t get very many customers anyways, you prepare yourself for the long day.

 

\---

 

Many, many,  _ many _ hours go by of you taking orders, carrying trays of food, pitchers of water, glasses of soda, plates of desserts, and you finally breathe a sigh of relief as the clock ticks 6 pm. You’re free to go now! Today wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. Tips were pretty great, and the majority of your customers were very nice. You wave goodbye to your coworkers who stay for the dinner rush and you’re out the door faster than you can say  _ fuck this shit I’m out _ . Hopping into your car, you turn on more music for the drive home and before you know it, you’re pulling up to your apartment complex and walking through your door. You change into more comfortable clothing and settle on your precious bean bag chair/the only piece of furniture that you have with your phone in your hands.

 

On your short break, Sans still hadn’t seen your text. Maybe he has a job too, or he’s busy with other stuff? You wouldn’t know. But that’s why you were going to ask him right now! You were typing out a question for him when you realize something. He’s read your text. At least an hour ago. Damn bitch left you on read!

 

“Oh, you’re going to regret that, Sans,” you mutter to yourself. You then shamelessly send at least fifty stupid and irrelevant texts to blow up his phone so he can answer you back. Around number 37, he reads your texts and they shift from nonsense to things along the lines of ‘Why did you leave me on read’ and ‘Text me back you twat.’

 

Eventually, Sans does text you back, but of course, it’s just something that annoys you and you feel that all the time and effort put into your spamming is put to waste.

 

-Magical snas: ok

 

How  _ infuriating  _ can someone be? He’s gotta be doing this on purpose.

 

-Me: Can you 

 

-Me: Just please

 

-Me: Work with me here

 

-Me: And not be an annoying little shit

 

-Magical snas: ok

 

You almost throw your phone across the room, but you stop yourself because you don’t exactly have the money for a new one. You instead respond to him.

 

-Me: OH MY GOD I’M SO DONE WITH YOU

 

You put your phone down gently, feeling more than a little annoyed. But you notice something else, too. You’re smiling.  _ Really _ smiling.

 

Your phone dings and interrupts whatever thoughts were blooming in your head based on your discovery. You groan, but it’s not one out of complete exasperation or annoyance.

 

-Magical snas: ok

 

-Me: Say something other than ok

 

-Magical snas: okay

 

fffffFFFFFFUU

 

-Magical snas: ;)

 

-Me: I’ll take that as progress

 

-Magical snas: ok

 

-Me: Anyways now that I have your attention

 

-Magical snas: ok

 

-Me: What do you like to do? Are you busy with stuff often? Do you have a job? What’re your favorites? Do you think we could hang out soon? Who are your friends and family? Am I sorry for asking you all these questions?

 

It takes a moment for him to respond. In fact, you waited five minutes before you got bored and went into your small kitchen to make yourself something to eat. You returned with a bowl of steaming ramen to find he still hasn’t answered. After waiting about ten more minutes, your phone goes off and you put your half-finished bowl of ramen on the floor and turn all your attention to the reply he sent all a little too eagerly.

 

-Magical snas: i’m into astronomy. stars mostly. yes. kinda. i like ketchup, the color blue, my bro. sure. a few monsters that i got to know down underground and papyrus. no.

 

Huh, not really the kinds of answers you were expecting, but it’ll do. You definitely notice Sans is being vague about everything he tells you... like he doesn’t want you to know something. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, and you wonder what he could possibly be hiding. Although, you don’t want him to know certain things about you either…

 

**_*Ping!_ **

 

Your phone tells you that you’ve received another text. You idly unlock the screen and it takes a few moments before you comprehend what he’s sent.

 

-Magical snas: now you answer your own questions for me

 

You smile again. It’s only fair.


	6. Phase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst, probably trigger warnings, tread with caution, young one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT -- combined three chapters, and you can now have the package deal -- all the angst in a 5,000-word chapter, congratulations

The next few days play out in the same way. You go to work, text Sans, briefly talk to a few of your coworkers on their shift that day, receive nothing back from him during your break, drive home around 6 pm, text him again, make dinner (if boxes of mac and cheese, packets of ramen, or cereal could be called that), return to your phone to find a text from him, and you either exchange more vague information about each other or send stupid shit until you get tired and go to bed. Although, he did answer you back on your break on Thursday, so he might start doing that all the time on your work days. He still never does in the morning, but he’s mentioned several times that he is lazy so you assume he sleeps in or doesn't do anything at all. Your nightly texts have become routine, and you learn a little more about Sans every day. For example, he knows a lot about stars and constellations and space and even some quantum physics. His job is working a hot dog or nice cream stand in the park (most of the customers being monsters, fucking specist humans) and some others that he wouldn't say, and when he doesn’t do that he’s usually sleeping. If not, he’s with his brother or other friends from the Underground that you have yet to meet.

 

You've heard some about Undyne and her girlfriend, Alphys, who live together. The phrase “opposites attract” couldn't be any truer here. Even though just the thought of Undyne terrifies you, she still sounds like she'd be cool as hell, and with someone as sweet and reserved as Alphys dating her, how bad could she really be? And she’s best friends with Papyrus, the loquacious, gregarious, affable cinnamon roll. Clearly nothing can go wrong here.

 

What surprised you even more than aggressive and nerdy monsters falling in love was that Sans is pretty close to the queen of the Underground. Toriel - or Tori as he likes to call her - was actually in hiding for awhile, until she was just so worried about Frisk that she went after them to protect them from the king. It's really sweet that she was so concerned for them, even if she only knew Frisk for such a short amount of time. Sans didn't tell you much about it except that Toriel first left because she was disgusted with how Asgore chose to react to the whole children situation. You wonder why they live together now, because she was apparently still bitter about that whole ‘murdering innocent human children’ thing when the barrier fell. Eh, you can think about goats fighting with each other later.

 

It's Saturday now. Two in the afternoon. Sans didn't text you much Friday. He said he was busy all day when he finally got around to it late last night. By then, it didn't even matter you had asked him if he wanted to hang out with you that day. He said he wouldn't have, anyway. For some reason, it upset you. It's selfish, of course, he has his own life too, adjusting to everything, but you were off work and you just thought…

 

You sigh heavily, turning up the music to a more deafening volume. Just drown out everything with some loud rock beats directly in your ears, via your phone and earbuds. You wish you felt like you did yesterday. Energetic, chipper, up for anything. Now you just don't want to move. In fact, you hadn't since Sans' response last night, collapsing onto your air mattress of a bed with disappointment. You hadn't even bothered texting something to him or eating breakfast or changing your clothes this morning.

 

Gah, what the fuck are you  _ doing?  _ Moping around because a guy you only sort of know doesn't trust you, has his own life problems, and was too busy to spend time with you? Pathetic. You run your hands over your face in dejected frustration.

 

You feel you should get up and do something, maybe pass the time with some video games, but you don't. Instead, you continue feeling somber and unmotivated on your mess of blankets and pillows. There’s just no energy to spare. Nothing worthwhile to concentrate on. What if Sans just doesn’t want to be your friend? What if he’s only playing nice, telling you what you want to hear and being vague on purpose so that he seems uninteresting to you so that you’ll leave him alone? You grimace at your thoughts and try to focus on the song lyrics you don’t know very well. You drift off into an uneasy and tired sleep, even over the music. You dream of screaming and yelling, crying and music, and driving.

 

\---

 

You feel yourself awakening, tangled in a few blankets and still not wanting to get up. Damn it, that nap was supposed to murder any feelings of melancholy in your system. You groan, but feel up your bed searching for your phone solely to check the time. The light outside your window is dim. You assume it's about 6:30, but it's really barely five o’clock. The weather outside is about as dismal as you feel with the clouds and the consistent drizzle. And you're starving; you really shouldn't have skipped the most important meal of the day. You eye the messaging app from the lock screen, which actually does have something waiting for you. You’ll check it later.

  
  
  


_ You’re disappointing. _

  
  
  


You reluctantly drag yourself out of bed and shamble into the kitchen. Cereal sounds alright. So now you’re standing in the kitchen with a bowl of Froot Loops in joggers and a sweater with bad opinions about every fucking thing in the world. Why’re you like this now? You were fine for months. Things are fine, everything’s fine, you should  _ be fine _ .

 

But it doesn’t feel fine.

  
  
  


_ You’re broken. _

  
  
  


You peer blankly into your cereal as if seeking guidance that will change your life forever. When you receive nothing, you grow irritated for no good reason and briskly finish off the fruity-tasting discs like they personally offended you.

  
  
  


_ You don’t matter. _

  
  
  


The sink is full of dishes, but you just ignore it as you set yet another dirty bowl on the counter and walk away to the rest of your comparatively empty apartment. If only your apartment was as full as that sink is.

  
  
  


_ You’re alone. _

  
  
  


You think about playing something, but it just doesn’t sound appealing. You trudge past the consoles and games. In your room again, you peel off your hoodie to reveal a T-shirt of one of your favorite bands and crawl back into bed.

  
  
  


_ It’s pointless. _

  
  
  


You stare vacantly at the ceiling. Then at your arm. Then back to the ceiling. Then your arm again. You’ve been clean for so long. You’ve been  _ better _ for so long. One bad thing is no excuse to do that again. It’s so trivial and senseless. One bad thing shouldn’t have shifted your mood like this. It’s not even that bad, he was just a little busy, but you still think he doesn’t trust you at all and he may not even want anything to do with you. His texts are too demurring, he doesn’t even like humans very well, he shares as little as possible, he doesn’t trust you.  _ He doesn’t trust you. _

  
  
  


_ You’re useless. _

  
  
  


Is it wrong that... you trust  _ him?  _ Why does it affect you so much? It’s only been a little over a week, and the only image of humanity Sans has had is what they said in the Underground, which you know isn’t particularly good. Then there was Frisk, and then everyone he encountered since last Thursday, and then you. You must’ve made a bad impression for him to act like this towards you.

  
  
  


_ You failure. _

  
  
  


“Just shut up already, I’m gettin’ the message,” you mumble to yourself. You close your eyes and try to not think about assaulting yourself with deprecation. But now you don’t feel anything. You open your eyes. The white popcorn ceiling greets you like it does every morning. You stare at it.

 

_ You want to feel something. _

 

Nothing is really different from what your life was like before you met Sans. It merely got more… disappointing. You don’t know what you expected after he disappeared from the coffee shop, but it wasn’t this overwhelming loneliness. Did you expect it to be different? Not as lonely?

 

You grip your phone in your hand. You don’t remember picking it up, but your finger automatically taps the messaging app. Oh, that’s right, you were going to check that.

 

*6 unread message(s)*

  
  


12:27

-Magical snas: ey sorry for kinda ignoring you yesterday, i had stuff happening

 

12:54

-Magical snas: you’re not mad, are you

 

13:33

-Magical snas: so i’m taking that as a yes

 

14:48

-Magical snas: you’re freaking me out a little, kid, you always answer your phone

 

14:49

-Magical snas: is something wrong?

 

15:12

-Magical snas: (y/n)?

 

Well great job,  (Y/n), you managed to worry him when it’s your fault.

 

-Me: No, I’m not mad, no, I’m fine

 

The response is immediate.

 

-Magical snas: thank the stars, i thought something happened

 

Oh?

 

-Me: Why would something happen to me

 

-Magical snas: don’t worry about it, pretty sure you’ll be fine

 

Okay,  _ that  _ was not reassuring in any way, but he insists. You need answers, anyway.

 

-Me: Btw why didn’t you want to hang yesterday? Even if you weren’t busy?

 

He’s read it. He’s typing. Now he’s not. Typing again… deleted. It takes a while before he actually sends something, and you sit there looking at your phone patiently.

 

-Magical snas: look, kid, i’m gonna be honest here. --

 

Oh god no this is the part where he says he doesn’t want to be your friend and he’s going to leave and you’ll never see him or his friends ever and… and…

Setting the phone down, you remind yourself to breathe. Breathe and just finish reading it and if that’s the case, it’s... going to be alright. Your eyes tentatively return to the phone screen when you pick it up.

 

-Magical snas: look, kid, i’m gonna be honest here. i actually was real busy yesterday. don’t think that i don’t want to hang out with you. you’re great. it’s everyone else. humans aren’t very accepting of us monsters, and with the number of hate groups rising, it’s kinda unsafe. i hate to say this and i don’t mean to sound rude, but i would feel more comfortable just texting for now, for the both of us. it’ll just make me and my family feel safer, and you won’t be looked down on. most humans are awful, and we don’t know enough about you yet. sorry.

 

You don’t know what to feel. Should you be happy? Relieved? Angry? He flat out told you that he doesn’t trust you. On the other end, he’s concerned for your safety. Sure, you’d seen a few protesters on street corners, but it’s not like they can act violently against another species without suffering consequences, so you’re not particularly worried about that. If he wants to know more about you, then you’d gladly tell him more. Now doesn’t seem like the best time, though.

 

-Me: Okay just wanted to know ttyl

 

You put your phone down and don’t bother looking at it when it notifies you of a text. You fall into another restless sleep, despite being nearly six o’clock.

 

\---

 

You're crying. You don't know why (yes you do), but you know you are. The tears run down your face, making it and your hands wet when you wipe them away. It’s dark no matter what direction you look at. You can hear distant yelling. No, it’s getting louder, closer. It sounds furious. You don’t like it. So you run away as fast as you can. You’re not making any distance with it. Are you even going anywhere? The enraged voice only seems to be growing louder. No, no, no no no no you don’t have to deal with that anymore, it’s over, he can’t-

 

You trip over your own feet and fall through the emptiness.

 

You land on something squishy. It’s just your chair, you’re in your living room sitting on your beanbag, everything’s okay, everything’s fine-

 

That’s not where you are. You’re in your room. The walls are a faded shade of pink, there’s a small bed tucked up against the wall, a desk is flooded with papers, there’s a TV across the room. It’s all too familiar. Then you hear mournful sobbing. All the same, there's sweet laughter that you can barely make out. Neither are coming from you. It’s… haunting, and you don’t know if you want it to stop or embrace it. Them.  _ Her. _ You stand up and make your way to the door you used to walk out of every morning, reaching out with a shaky hand to pull it open. But there's something in your hand already.

 

You look down then gasp, dropping all the items and clutching your entire arm against your body because it  _ burns. _ You recognize all the contents now strewn about on the floor, the remnants of your late childhood; wads of cash, cigarettes, keys, weed, razor blades.

 

_ The clink of beer cans against the table, how the fridge was always filled with it, the contents littering the house, yelling, yelling,  _ yelling,  _ silence, crying and sleeping and more silence _

 

You shouldn’t be here, you  _ can’t _ be here, you need to get back home,  _ right now,  _ you can't stand another second here--!

 

You ignore everything and wrench the door open, running down the hallway. You can see the front door, you just have to get there and then you can finally leave again! The hall doesn’t end, it won’t, you keep running and running, you’re out of breath but you don’t care, you just have to get out.

 

_ No no no no no no you can't let that happen just keep going he can't catch you that way and he never will just  _ keep going  _ he hasn't found you and if you keep going he won't. _

 

You aren't running anymore. You're driving your car, and you're crying again. You can hear that furious voice again _no no no please_ please _make it stop but don't let it be silent just make it nice again_ and he's screaming at you, the words you'll never forget but you refuse to listen, _you refuse,_ it's _not_ _fucking true,_ he didn't mean it. You could just turn around and say sorry, that you’re not going away, give everything back, go where he wants you to go _for you_ , just stay and everything will turn out okay, it'll be okay, _it'll be oka-_

 

You swerve your car sharply to the right before it hits another.

 

\---

 

You jolt up as you’re brutally ripped from sleep, gasping and sweaty and with tears cascading down your face. That was-- was-- it was terrible. Nothing has been that intense before, so full of sorrow and regret and-- and--

 

Heavy sobs rack your trembling body as you curl in on yourself in the dark, all alone. Oh  _ God you’re alone and you’ll  _ **_always_ ** _ be that way because  _ **_no one_ ** _ is going to be there for you, you  _ **_left_ ** _ them,  _ **_they_ ** _ left you, and it’s  _ **_completely_ ** _ your fault,  _ but you just  _ can’t _ let anyone get too close. You don’t even  _ deserve  _ someone like that in your life, to comfort you, to cry with, to make you laugh. What did you ever do to earn the things you have now? Hurt him for another place to live? Hurt  _ yourself _ for a sick sense of relief?

 

Then you had to get your shit together so you could actually live somewhere for a prolonged amount of time and have food for yourself at the age of eighteen  _ without _ freaking out, and you were very inexperienced in many things involving the real world. They don’t teach you anything useful in high school, but at least you fucking know how plant cells function and what happened in Europe over seven hundred years ago. The job was fairly easy to get, but keeping it left you exhausted sometimes. You do everything you can from taking their shifts when they can’t make it to coming in early or staying late just to stay on good terms with everyone. You pretended and distracted yourself for the longest time so you wouldn’t have to come to terms with your fucking mess of a life, to get through the days easier. And don’t forget the recent when you  _ laughed _ at someone’s pain only for him to be your friend because monsters are much more thoughtful than humans could ever  _ dream to be! _

 

...Sans…

 

Why did he become your friend? The question didn’t quite surface itself until now, and you hadn’t been thinking much about that. He said something about you being nice to Papyrus, but that’s kind of ridiculous. People should be respected, anyway, not discriminated for their race or skin color or, in this case, species. You can’t help but think it was out of pity, though the nicer thought is that he actually wants to know you and hang out with you for who you are. You could simply… ask him...

 

No, no, don’t you dare call him or text him. That’s a stupid thing to ask because it doesn’t matter why. You probably would’ve told him something you didn’t want him to know, being in your current state. You still barely know each other, it’s only been a little more than a week. Or has it been two? You don’t remember. It’s the middle of the night, judging by the pitch black darkness out the window; he won’t even answer. You can talk to him so easily, though. He makes you smile and laugh, even on text. You trust him.

 

...Right? To trust someone is to tell them everything, to believe in them. But you’ve told him… nothing about your problems. Again, you haven’t known each other for very long, but you aren’t even planning on telling him unless it’s forced out of you. So… you actually don’t trust him either…? Why do you feel like you can trust him with your life? God, this shouldn’t even be about trust! It’s a damn friendship, and all of them have their own pace. You can keep your mouth shut, and he won’t be burdened by your issues, and he won’t know how much of a joke your life is. It’s simply to protect both of you. It’s the right thing to do, isn’t it?

 

Everything is so damn  _ confusing. _ How can you enjoy someone’s company so much, so easily? Especially in your circumstances! Is it because Sans is different? Because he’s kind to you? Because he is literally the only person to make you genuinely smile and even… hope? Since what seems like forever? That first day with him at the coffee shop was honestly one of the best you’ve had in awhile. When’s the next time you’ll see him in person?  _ Never? _ A sharp pain bites your arm, and you don’t realize until too late that you’re bleeding. When did you crawl over to your closet…? Why do you still keep these when you should’ve thrown them away a long time ago? The crimson liquid flows down your arm through the various slits you made, ones that were once only pink, scarred tissue, and  _ fuck _ it stings like a bitch. Your arms shake as you drop the blade and hold your damaged one close to you, getting blood on your shirt that’s black except for the words so it doesn’t even matter.

 

Tears laced with pain and disappointment leak out of your eyes because  _ damn it,  _ you shouldn’t have done that, but you just have to fuck up  _ every single little thing _ in your broken life.

 

\---

 

“Hey, (Y/n), are you… are you doing okay? You seem a little… on edge.”

 

You look over your shoulder for a few seconds at Zoe who is wringing her hands together in a nervous habit. It's just like her to be concerned about you. And everyone else. You sigh, pulling the cups away from the soda dispenser, and you turn to her. Her emerald eyes sparkle with nothing but worry and the hope that she can help somehow.

 

You’d hate to lie to her, but this shouldn't involve her. “Yeah, I'm fine. I've had better days is all.”

 

“Oh, okay… if you're so sure...” she says, eyes downcast as she tucks a lock of wavy auburn hair behind her ear. It looks as if she's about to walk away, then her gaze returns to your face, and you swear it lingered on your bandaged arm for a second too long in the process. “If you need someone to talk to, just come to me and I'll be there.”

 

You return her encouraging, warm smile with silence, and soon after she is gone.

 

**_I feel for you, but when did you believe you were alone?_ **

 

You take the refilled drinks to the correct table. Root beer for the two boys, Sprite for the mother, and Coke for the father. You count the eight discolored or cracked white tiles on the floor walking back to the kitchen area. There are two burnt out light bulbs over two different tables. The thermostat is set at seventy-one degrees. It is 17:21. Three other workers and one manager are currently present.

 

**_You say that spiders crawled inside and made themselves a home where light once was._ **

 

Despite the attempts to distract yourself, you can’t keep your mind off your arm. That was so unbelievably  _ stupid! _ Not only did it make you feel worse, you couldn’t hide it without it being so obvious. There’s white gauze wrapped all around your forearm. That’s not even from trying to dress it; you had simply washed off the excess blood yesterday morning when you eventually got up and slapped the gauze on before you went in for work today. Your excuse of “falling into the stove when it was on” was lame even in your head, but what else were you going to say? That you accidentally stabbed yourself several times with a knife while cooking dinner? No one pushed it, and it was probably easier for them to take it rather than try to figure out what’s wrong. You would’ve covered it with makeup like you do with all the older scars, but with these being so fresh it wouldn’t have worked. Your uniform is black pants and a short-sleeved green shirt with “Ace Diner” curved down in a big yellow star on the back. The front is blank in favor of the apron with pockets to go over it. Long sleeves was not an option here.

 

**_Petrified of who you are and who you have become._ **

 

A platter contains a cheeseburger and about forty almost-shoestring fries; they’ve always been too thick. You transfer it onto a tray, along with a coffee pot and a stack of two pancakes with a side of hash browns, and carry it to a table twenty-six steps away from the kitchen. A young woman and her grandmother are chatting together as you set their food down, and you refill the elder’s cup with coffee. You’ve seen these two around before, and sometimes they bring more family members. They always tip well and are so nice to you.

 

But you fucking forgot the lovely old lady’s glass of milk. “I’ll be right back with your milk and ketchup in case you need it. Does everything look good?” you inquire with a bright and false smile. What a save. They nod, and you make your way back to retrieve the forgotten items.

 

You bump into Kayd on the way, and he almost spills all seven drinks balanced in his hands. How does the guy even manage to do that? You apologize, craning your neck up to look into his amber eyes, and he just shrugs, making all the glasses clink together again. He wanders off to serve the party. Kayd is an ascetic fellow; a hardcore Christian. A little too daring for his own good. He is the tallest one in the workplace, and he’s full of mysteries. One that you’ll never solve is how the combination of his chocolate hair and honey eyes is legal because you’d seen him make girls swoon so much they literally faint. He’s suddenly standing in front of you, presumably done with his task and you realize you haven’t moved and you’re blocking the kitchen entrance. Wow, you’re one smooth cookie and you sure are convincing everyone all is well in the life of (Y/n).

 

“(Y/n), are you alright? You seem upset, and you were just kinda, uh… standing there for a while,” Kayd observes, and you forget what you were doing in the first place. “If there’s-”

 

“Yeah, uh, no, I’m fine. Just tired, I guess,” you reply. You stroll into the kitchen, leaving him no room for more questions.

 

**_You will hide from everyone, denying you need someone to exterminate your bones._ **

 

You were doing something, that’s why you were going towards the kitchen… Maybe if you walk around a little bit it’ll come back to you. So you amble, staring hard at all the condiments and kitchen tools like they were suspects for criminality. Then you stop in front of a fridge. Oh, that’s right. You pull a milk carton out of the fridge and empty it into a small glass. You remember that you promised ketchup too, so you grab that from a shelf near the exit. Why doesn’t this place keep it on the tables? It’s really stupid in your opinion. It’s a  _ diner  _ for fuck’s sake, nothing fancy or extravagant.

 

You set both milk and ketchup down on the table and ask if they need anything, which they don’t. So you’re just left to check on other customers, which takes two seconds. And now you have nothing to do except awkwardly walk around and see if anyone flags you down for something they need. You pick up tips as people leave. Your mind roams.

  
  


**_I’m dying and I’m trying_ **

  
  


Because it’s easier to push people away because it’s easier to try and distract yourself, because it’s easier to pretend, but you’re  _ fine _ because you have everything you  _ need _ so why is anything even a problem?

  
  


**_But believe me I’m fine_ **

  
  


Three people walk in and sit at one table, eighteen steps away from the kitchen. Four people leave. Two people leave. Five people come in. All of your patrons are gone. Refill two glasses of water. Bring this table mustard, thirty-four steps away from the kitchen. Clean up a broken plate on the floor. Wipe down three tables. Sweep the floor near the kitchen.

  
  


**_But I’m lying_ **

  
  


How is Sans is doing right now? Would he ever listen to you vent? Should you... return his text later? You don’t really want to, but at the same time you do, and it just makes you feel guilty avoiding him.

  
  


**_I’m so very far from fine._ **

  
  


You catch sight of a clock and you see you could’ve left at least twenty minutes ago. Surprisingly, you didn’t really care. There is nothing waiting for you at home. So you take your time in leaving. You don’t think you’ve ever been so slow in clearing out, and your coworkers cast worried looks at each other while you’re not looking.

 

Soon enough, you’re driving your car in silence and pull up in front of your apartment. Music would have been nice because the silence was torture, but you had left your phone at home and nothing is ever really good to you on the radio anymore. You didn’t want to see the text messages you’re sure are there by now.

 

Then you just… sit there for a while. A few people pass, even some monsters. Who knew you shared your apartment complex with monsters? You should get to know them sometime.

 

The sun is close to vanishing over the horizon, and you take that as your cue to actually go into your home instead of staying in your car like some kind of weirdo.

 

You get out. Shut the door. Lock the car. Climb the stairs. Find your keys. Open the door. Step inside. Close the door. Lock it. Rip off your bandages. Change into a hoodie and shorts. Eat a bag of chips. Check the time.

 

...It’s still not even 7:30. And you’re not sleepy, so you’ll have to kill some time until then. You find it in your heart to play Majora’s Mask and have fun while adventuring across Termina Field. You’ve beaten it so many times, but it’s one of those nice, constant things in your life, and you don’t mind the familiarity it offers you. When you’re about halfway through, you switch to Ocarina of Time out of pure nostalgia.

 

You never did check those new messages on your phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friend, Please, and Fall Away by Twenty One Pilots


	7. A Day Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Feel-good Friday (let's pretend it is), and some not so feel-good Friday

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT -- intensify the pep

You were getting ready for work, as per usual, but then you got a phone call as you were leaving. Apparently everyone was worried about you and your manager, Duncan, agreed to let you have the day off to “rest and think things through.” Eh, you could deal, and there was no point in arguing. But you were planning to use work as a distraction from everything and  _ not  _ think things through, so you stood in your open door for at least five minutes contemplating on what you would do instead. Since you were heading out anyway, you might as well go somewhere. It’s honestly quite boring (and depressing) sitting in your room doing nothing, especially after so many days. You go back inside and pick up a hoodie laying in the middle of the floor, then lock your apartment when you step outside. It’s nice enough to get around on foot, the cold weather not quite set in yet, so you ultimately decide to do that instead of drive.

 

It doesn’t take too long to get into the main part of the city. You let your feet take you wherever they decide, having marched down these sidewalks many times. It appears that your feet want ice cream because you’ve stopped in front of a rather delicious parlor. A double scoop chocolate Oreo cone did sound pretty great…

 

Why the hell not?

 

You take a seat at one of the barstools inside and order the creamy frozen treat and watch as the woman behind the counter scoops the delectable chocolate ice cream and places it in the waffle cone. She sprinkles Oreo crumbs all over it before handing it to you with a genuine smile. Of all the minimal times you’ve been here, this lady always seems to love her job and be happy while doing it. You offer a smile in return, finding it easier to do than in days past, and start enjoying your ice cream. Mmm, you feel a little better already. Totally worth $5.84.

 

As you hum in contentment, you start to pay attention to the other customers scattered here and there at the tables behind you. Two monsters in particular catch your attention (you’re glad this place is monster friendly; it’s becoming a trend to harass monsters that go into stores, even going as far as banning them). There is a tall, blue-skinned (fish?) woman with bright red hair eating a massive sundae, and across from her is a short (compared to the other, she looks to be about the same height as you are damn it you are not short!) reptilian woman with a simple vanilla cone. You heard laughter float between the two since you walked in, and you see that they’re a couple. They spare each other flirtatious glances and commentary, the shorter of the two blushing frequently. They look freaking adorable together.

 

(You’ve always supported the LGBTQ+ community, but you never did anything spontaneous for it, or are even a part of it. Mostly because your dad absolutely despised anything having to do with “those damn gays and lesbians that are corrupting the world and spreading their disease to others.” That statement pissed you off when he was watching the news one night about marriage, drunk off his ass, and it took everything in you not to go off on him about how wrong he was. You clenched your teeth and held your tongue before stomping away to your room because anything with your dad being drunk was not good. Ugh, what he must think about monsters...)

 

Those two seem familiar, but you can’t pinpoint exactly why. You think about it, licking your ice cream, but nothing comes up. You subtly study them for the next few minutes, listening to enthusiastic and shy banter. All too soon you finish your tangible happiness, leave a $2 tip in the jar, and exit the store. Hopefully you can run into them again sometime and introduce yourself. They seem like a fun pair. Right now, though, your feet are in a hurry to go somewhere else. It also looked like they were having so much fun together, and you would've hated to ruin that for them.

 

You walk on for ten minutes before you once again stop, this time in front of the library. You’re so glad that you gave your feet a chance because they did aaallllll the thinking, and very well. You eagerly stroll up the stairs and into the relatively vacant building and straight to the romance section, pulling out four books that seem interesting. Of course, they’re all cheesy and cliche, but you love the overused carnival date and beach trips where the love interests confess their feelings and shit goes down. The one that isn’t quite like that is about a boy in high school who realizes he likes his best friend. He doesn’t know how to tell him, and even if he wanted to do that, he’s afraid it might ruin everything.

 

After choosing that one to read first, you settle down into one of the many comfy chairs, open the book, and start reading. You could literally sit in the library all day until it closes, and with all the books you have picked out, it might end up being that way. The quiet atmosphere is so relaxing, and getting lost in the books, living through fictional lives - it just makes the experience a whole lot more enjoyable.

 

That is until small children started pouring inside, screeching with the same intensity of a riot. No wonder it was so empty when you walked in. Tuesdays are apparently the days that little kids enter a free-for-all and trash the library while their parents only half pay attention to them, handing them a few coloring pages and illustrated books every ten minutes. It’s supposed to be a time where they can bond with each other, but you see very quickly that is not what this is, evident by the amount of crying, sabotaging, and stealing happening. Who knew toddlers were such savages?

 

You check out your books and leave the chaos zone to go to the park. It’s only about fifteen minutes away, and you could read your books in peace there, leaning against a tree in the soft grass. A content sigh escapes you at the vision. This day was going a lot better than you originally thought it would. With the books cradled against your chest, you begin the short trek to your destination.

 

Once you find a tree that isn’t too close to people, you sit down and continue where you left off. It’s great not thinking about your past or your job or monsters right now. You indulge yourself with the fantasy in front of your eyes, getting utterly lost in the content and losing track of time. Noon came and went, and you’re nearly finished with your second book when you realize it’s sprinkling. Crawling away from the trunk, you look up into the gray sky. It doesn’t look like it’ll let up anytime soon. You gather your books and walk towards the exit. Oh, and of course it starts pouring down as you make your way now to a cafe or somewhere else to take shelter.

 

By the time you enter a bakery, you’re soaking wet and cold. Great. You somehow managed to protect the books, and you feel a little proud at that. You pull out more cash to purchase a chocolate cupcake because you’re not one to saunter into a store and not buy anything. Talk about being rude!

 

Ugh, your chocolate cravings are really high, but you’re kinda glad to know it was just hormones fucking with your emotions for the past few days. Completely normal. It simply spiked your sadness and neediness. And you... completely don’t want to deal with that bullshit. You decide to think about it when it comes. You take your cupcake sitting on the counter and seat yourself by a fireplace with a lovely little fire going. You smile for these little things.

 

Checking your phone when you get home sounds like a good idea for once.

 

~~~

 

Sans fucked up bad. He knows he did.

 

Even though it was perfectly logical and  _ fair  _ to tell you the truth, he practically heard the hurt in that text you sent. He tried to play it off with something along the lines of “it’s not your fault,” but you never read it. You didn’t even text him back. Ever. Not a single word from you. He sent a few more texts over the course of the days trying to check in with you, all of which remain ignored.

 

The grip on his ketchup bottle tightens as he drops his head onto the cool wood counter, sighing.

 

Perhaps... he’s being too irrational. There would be nothing wrong with hanging out with you. Sans already knows that you’re different from most humans, that you actually care about being kind and considerate to others, even monsters. But the fact that you show that much kindness, unselfishness, pure _goodness…_ it reminds him so much of Frisk, and he knows too goddamn well that all of that can turn into something he doesn’t want to confront ever again. He can’t shake the memories of that look in their eye as they clutched the toy knife, of the dusty red scarf lying in the snow, the absolute glee in their expression as they painted a crimson line across his chest and he can _still_ feel the phantom pain sometimes and see the line on Papyrus’ neck where he was decapitated when his scarf isn’t on. He… h-he needs to call his brother and make sure he’s still okay, that he’s alive and well at home and not… not...

 

Sans takes in a comforting, shuddering breath, slowing down his breathing that started to become erratic.

 

He’s just glad he doesn’t have to see the kid again. At least until the next reset comes, because when does Sans ever get a happy ending? That fucking kid is never satisfied. They’ll probably get bored wherever they wandered off to. It’s only a matter of time, and for them to wait this long… until he’s settled into his new life, when finally tries to move on, tries to be  _ happy.. _ . just to rip it away again when it was barely even in his grasp...

 

It is just cruel.

 

Someone nudges his shoulder, and Sans tilts his skull just enough to see Grillby staring down at him. His flames flicker with concern, licking at the top of his head in intricate swirls. “Sans, are you doing alright?”

 

“yeah, grillbz, everything’s  _ fire, _ ” Sans replies, lifting his head slightly to smile wide at the elemental. He stares blankly at Sans, his orange fire crackling. He’s not buying it.

 

“I do not believe you to be ‘fine’, Sans.”  _ Shit _ .

 

“er…” his facade falters. He buries his face in his arms resting on the bar before he drops it completely. “heh, perceptive as always, grillby. i just... got a few things on my mind.” Sans mumbles from his position.

 

“I will leave you alone if you do not wish to speak to me, but if you do, I am always open to chat,” Grillby pats the other’s shoulder gently and walks away.

 

Sans stays like that for… a while, only occasionally taking a sip from his ketchup. He really wasn’t that hungry. He obviously made you pretty upset. Sure, he should’ve responded earlier, but it’s not his fault Alphys needs him at the lab frequently. He should try and reach out to you soon because you’ve made it clear you won’t answer your phone. You work Mondays through Thursdays regularly, so you should be at the diner today. Unease fills him for no good reason and... even more guilt.

 

Maybe all of this soul-crushing guilt is coming from the fact he only wants to text you. Truly, truly he would be more comfortable just doing that, even if it’s so selfish and, really, a poor excuse overall. You are a nice person. He can’t seem to accept the fact that just because you’re nice doesn’t mean you’ll want to suddenly hurt everyone he cares about, and he knows you wouldn’t do that, you don’t even have it in you to… but... The thought of you turning sour out of the blue and _murdering everyone he loves…_ just like the pacifist child, Frisk… It suddenly seems like something that would happen. He starts shaking, breaths speeding up and where is Papyrus, he _needs to see him,_ and he just teleports home right then and there, leaving the ketchup bottle half empty on the counter.

 

The inky blackness of the void meets him, and soon enough he’s standing in front of Papyrus. Sans all but throws himself into him, his precious baby brother who’s alive and standing right there, hugging him back. Papyrus had set down whatever was in his hands to embrace him, and he keeps telling Sans that he’s there, he’s never going to leave, over and over again until he stops shaking and he stops crying (when had he started crying?). He’s so fortunate that Papyrus knows exactly what to say to calm him down.

 

“SANS, ARE YOU OKAY?” Papyrus asks, voice full of worry. He’s such a good bro. There’s no point in lying, so when Sans thought he could speak, he did.

 

“no,” he admits, hiding his face further into his brother’s form because even with putting forth his best efforts, his voice still sounds shaky.

 

“Would You… Like To Talk About It, Brother?” he offers quietly, and Sans almost said yes.

 

“...n-no, bro, not really.” He is too pathetic, too doubtful to share any of this with Papyrus. He deserves to know, he really does, but Sans just can’t find it in him to plague his life with his own problems. “i’ll be okay, i… i just… need a nap.”

 

Sans pulls himself away from Papyrus and shortcuts to his room. So much for trying to patch things up with you. Of course he would freak out over nothing. This is why he sticks to doing nothing, because at least when he does that, there’s no end product to disappoint anyone with. And God, did he feel like such an awful brother. At least he knew he was okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FAN ART BY SARAH TREGAY it's cute go read it


	8. Into the Inferno

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Grillby's visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT -- I'm running out of synonyms for spiced up

You flop down on your bed and hold your phone up in front of you. After a couple days of avoiding it like the plague (other than listening to a little music here and there), it feels kinda nice to be doing this again. Social media and games flood your notifications since the last time you've checked it, and you clear it because you don’t care that Trivia Crack wants you to play or that some celebrity posted a photo for the first time in a while.

 

You get that mess sorted out, then you open the messaging app and tap Sans’ name. Oh, there are quite a few texts. More than you thought. All of them ask how you're doing. Now you feel really bad about ignoring the world, and specifically, Sans.

 

You begin typing a lengthy apology, rewriting and rereading several things over. You mention that it's okay he doesn't want to hang out and to just text you if he changes his mind. When you’re satisfied, you send it and wait.

 

And wait. What is up with him not texting you back when you really want him to?

 

Assuming he won’t respond for God knows how long, you feel like you should do something. Something involved with monsters. You could drive around until you find a monster place, but that might take longer than you anticipate. You don’t even know if there are any with their ascension being so recent. It wouldn’t hurt to try and look it up on the internet. You search ‘monster food’ on your phone and wait for the results to load. Articles and theories pop up, but after you scroll down a little you find a place on a busy street where it’s served. It has good ratings and seems to be pretty popular, too. Might as well try it out because what else are you going to do when you’re still hyped about being out in public for the first time in a while?

 

With more enthusiasm than you thought you possessed, you leave your apartment, climb into your car, and drive towards the city  _ with  _ your phone. When you get close enough to the correct street, you veer off onto a side road towards a parking lot to park your car. Because you’re not dealing with that parallel parking shit, especially on a street as busy as that one. Never again.

 

Three minutes of dodging people and traffic later and you’re sitting on a barstool in  _ Grillby’s _ . You’re utterly fascinated by the bartender who is literally hot. He’s made of  _ fire! _ He’s orange flames walking around in a suit, polishing glasses and serving burgers! Which you order, along with fries when he introduces himself and asks you what you want because it’s dinner time and you are hungry.

 

Besides the elemental, there are monsters everywhere. In fact, you’re the only human in the establishment right now. Not that you mind, mostly because everyone actually minds their own business and they don’t stare at you as if you’re a walking STD like humans do to monsters. You don’t mean to bash your race, but humans are complete trash sometimes.

 

You don’t recognize anyone, but a pack of large yet cute dog monsters catches your attention. There are five of them around a large table all playing cards, though the cream colored one seems to be playing by itself. Wait, you’ve seen that one before! That day when you first met Sans and Papyrus and learned about monsters’ existence! You think about going over there to introduce yourself to them, but your nerves get the best of you. Also, Grillby brings you your food.

 

“Thank you, Grillby,” you say and smile at him. Oohhhh the food smells heavenly.

 

“You are very welcome, madam,” his fire crackles as he speaks. It reminds you of fireworks before they shoot up into the air. 

 

“Please, call me (Y/n),” you say, then you childishly add, “Can I high five you?” Your curiosity is getting the better of you, and you’re about to find out if it really does kill the cat.

 

Grillby seems to laugh. “Of course.” He holds up his fiery hand, and you give him the most passionate high five ever. It didn’t burn, but it was pleasantly warm instead. Looks like the cat got wrapped up in a blanket instead of spontaneously combusting.

 

“That’s so cool!” you squeal. You pop a fry in your mouth and you’re taken aback by how fucking amazing it tastes. “These are soooo good! Thank you so much! Again!”

 

“I am pleased to know that you enjoy the food, Miss (Y/n),” he tells you as you start stuffing your face with fries. He’s such a gentleman, and you certainly are being quite the lady right now. “I do not mean to be rude, but what made you decide to eat here? This place is not very popular among humans.”

 

That’s a good question, and you ponder for a good minute trying to come up with a response. Evidently, you don’t have one.

 

“Guess I wanted to try something new. I found this place on the internet,” you reply after you swallow the food in your mouth. Most of it dissolved after you chewed it a few times - it’s cool as fuck and it made eating way easier. Definitely putting monster food on the list of things you should get more of. “I made the right choice in coming here tonight.”

 

“You flatter me, Miss (Y/n),” he chuckles, and you swear his cheeks (or where they would be) start burning a little brighter and redder. Aw, he’s blushing like an awkward teenage boy. “Could I get you anything else?”

 

“No thanks, I think I’m good,” you answer. Grillby walks away and you’re left to savor the taste of this burger because it’s the best damn thing you’ve ever had in your life. But then you finish it along with your fries, and now you have nothing. You sigh at your loss, but it’s a happy sigh.

 

You look around to see if you know anyone, but it’s the same as when you walked in. Maybe you could go say hi to the canines? Nooo, you can’t, you’re too nervous. Luckily, Grillby just so happened to return from doing bartender stuff, so now you can talk to him. He’s easy to talk to, you realize.

 

“Hey, Grillby? Are there any other employees?” you wonder aloud. You’ve been thinking about this since you first came in, and you haven’t seen anyone else at all. He glances at you then continues to absentmindedly polish a glass in his flaming hand.

 

“No, I am the owner and the only one who works here, but it is not too difficult to handle,” he confirms. You, however, are gaping at him.

 

“So you do the cooking, bartending, serving, cleaning-- everything? By yourself?!”

 

“Yes. And like I said, it is not that hard.”

 

“Wow, I can’t even imagine trying to run a restaurant by myself,” you remark, thoroughly impressed. You can barely manage serving three tables at a time. How can one  _ easily _ serve an  _ entire restaurant _ and be the bartender  _ and  _ make the food?

 

Grillby chuckles again. Then the two of you idly talk about a few things for a while, like how his daughter is doing in college and your work shenanigans. Grillby is a really good listener. It’s nice to just drone on and on about things that nobody cares about. He can make the insignificant details in a story seem like the most important things. A phenomenal thing you learned about him was that he primarily listens to classical music, but he also recently discovered heavy metal and rock bands. The thought of him jamming out to Metallica or AC/DC is hilarious because he just doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to be into that. You decide that you like talking with Grillby. Eventually, he mentions Sans and you perk up slightly.

 

“Wait, you know Sans too?” you say as you look up at Grillby expectantly, and he nods his head.

 

“Of course I do. He is one of my regulars. In fact, he was in here earlier today. Are you two friends?” he questions.

 

“Yeah, I met him and his brother, like, two weeks ago. I think… I can’t remember very well. Something like that, though,” you say then shrug.

 

“Would you happen to know what is hurting him, then?” Grillby’s blank expression shifts into one that you perceive to be concern (he is a little hard to read).

 

“Oh, no, I don’t.” You had no idea something was wrong with Sans, didn’t even  _ think  _ to consider what he must be feeling. “We haven’t been on the same page, lately.”

 

“I am aware of his opinion on humans, and I am rather surprised he would befriend you,” Grillby marvels.

 

“Honestly, me too. Sans completely hated me when we met, then ten minutes passed and we were sitting together in a coffee shop. It was pretty crazy,” you recall that day, and up until now, it’s been the best in your life that you can vividly remember. “I’m going to text him later and see if he’ll tell me what’s up.”

 

“Do not think that he will, Miss (Y/n). I have known him for many years and he never tells me what is bothering him.”

 

“I’ll just spam ‘Are you okay’ until he feels better, then.”

 

“I highly doubt that will work.”

 

“It’s worth a shot.”

 

You both snicker at how absurd you’re being, but there’s an underlying sense of seriousness to it. Sure, you don’t know Sans very well, but you do know you care for him (and his friends, of course), especially now that you know he isn’t okay. If you could help him in some way, you would do it, but if he doesn’t even answer your texts, what could you do? Although this obstacle in your path is in the way of you becoming good friends with Sans, you’re not going to give up on him that easily. You’re going to run and jump over that obstacle even if you fall and break your face in the process because he’s worth it. He’s funny, he’s caring, but he’s in pain and he needs help. It’s affecting his friends, and probably Papyrus too. No matter how much time or convincing it takes, you’re determined to make Sans feel better. You’re going to fix what you can’t fix in your own life because he shouldn’t have to suffer after enduring the hell he went through underground, whatever it may have been. No one should have to go through that.

 

Grillby pulls you out of your thoughts by sliding a small slip of paper in front of you.

 

“Here, Miss (Y/n). This is my phone number. Do not hesitate to contact me whenever you need someone to talk to. Consider me a friend,” he smiles at you, a thin white line appearing where his mouth would be.

 

“Thank you,” you return his smile with a bright, genuine one of your own. How can monsters be so good and pure? How could they have been locked away? 

 

“It is getting late. I do not know if you have any plans tomorrow, but if you do, you should probably leave,” Grillby kindly points out. You pull out your phone and--

 

“Holy shit--!” you slap your hand over your mouth. Fucking hell you just cussed out loud again! Though, after the first slip up, you weren’t pure anymore (lol since when were you), so why exactly were you keeping it up? “Er… I’m sorry. I didn’t realize it was so late. I’ve gotta go, but I’ll see you again soon, Grillby!”

 

“Take care, Miss (Y/n),” he says and waves goodbye.

 

You’ve been in Grillby’s for nearly four hours. You hastily exit the building and move towards your car, driving home much faster than you should be. When you burst through your apartment door, you got ready for bed at record time and sent texts to Sans and Grillby.

 

-Me: Are you okay ?

 

...No response.

 

-Me: Hey this is (Y/n), I’ll try to stop by again tomorrow :)

 

...Immediate response.

 

-Grillbz: Wonderful, I will see you then. Have a lovely night.

 

-Me: Thanks, you too

 

You plug your phone in and settle down further into your pile of pillows and blankets. All of the day’s exhaustion hits you and you’re asleep within seconds.

 

That nickname he left on the paper really fits him.


	9. Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then he shouts "I'm nooooot oooookayyyy" on the rooftops

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT -- (insert clever synonym for spice up here)

With your mood now uplifted, you’re happy about every single little thing you do. Literally, from waking up each morning to listening to music while texting Sans, Papyrus, and Grillby. Though conversations with Sans and Grillby are usually short due to Sans being Sans and Grillby working, Papyrus texts you all day long. Apparently, he had called random numbers for days on end until he found yours, and you just have to appreciate how persistent he was. He's so much fun to text, too! Work the next few days were absolutely fabulous, and your coworkers are glad you are better. You find a reason to smile at everything, and it’s truly contagious. Everyone you encounter seems to be in a brighter mood after you interact with them, and that just makes you even more elated. Needless to say, it’s a drastic change from your depressing state and one that you prefer much more.

 

Right now you're sitting at Grillby's, laughing hysterically at your own joke. Grillby simply chuckles, shaking his head at you because he's heard it a million times from you and you always react the same way. Despite only being a few days since you met him, Grillby feels like a long-lost friend. Your relationship with him is basically the opposite with that of Sans, and the two of you get along so well.

 

Speaking of Sans, the both of you have been trying to come up with ideas to cheer him up and possibly progress your friendship. The ideas were either too stupid or unrealistic, so you don't have anything. Unless you want to force him to do something he clearly wants to take his time with (or show up at his place unexpected with fireworks and cake), you decide to chill until he does something. Grillby said he hasn't seen Sans since the day he “stepped out.” It was worrying him, and you had reassured him that Sans would come around. If you know anything, it’s that he eventually does. Grillby obviously knows it too, but that doesn’t stop him from restlessly over-cleaning everything when he didn’t have anything to do.

 

“Okay, okay,” you giggle, trying to compose yourself. “I got another one. Two chemists walk into a bar. One of them says to the bartender, ‘I’ll have H2O,’ and then the other one says, ‘I'll have H2O too.’ Later that night, the second one dropped dead.” You break off into more laughter, even though the joke wasn’t that funny, but it just seemed like the best thing ever!

 

“Oh, Miss (Y/n), you have quite the taste in dark humor,” Grillby comments but is laughing with you anyway.

 

“It’s funny though! Haha, I'm sorry. I'll lighten up a little,” you point finger guns at Grillby and he picks up the fire pun a few seconds after.

 

“Heh, you are just like Sans sometimes,” he comments cheerfully, but then he turns away slightly. Did his flames dim a little, too?

 

“Hey, Grillby, it’s gonna be okay,” you say, repositioning your arms to rest them on the countertop and give him a small smile when he turns back to you. “At least Sans texts us back and we know that he’s okay… to an extent. I really think he should talk to someone.”

 

“I know. I cannot help but worry, though,” he sighs and starts idly polishing the same glass as any other day. It's been a busy night, but only the regulars are remaining now and they seem to be content with talking amongst themselves and asking for something from Grillby every once in a while. “Sans keeps so many things to himself and I do not know why. We all try to be there for him; Papyrus, his other friends, myself, but it seems like he does not want to open up to anyone.”

 

“Maybe he thinks he can handle it on his own. Or he's just always been a secretive person…” You know it won't do any good to the situation, but you add it, nonetheless.

 

“Perhaps. I cannot argue with that logic...” Grillby gets called on another table for more drinks. You lay your head in your hands, officially bored. You would drink something, but you need to drive back home. You also ate earlier so there's no room for food. There are no texts on your phone. Papyrus said he'd be busy hanging out with his cool friends, and you wish you were cool enough to be with them right now. Not that Grillby’s is an uncool establishment (it's way better than your restaurant lol), but you kinda have nothing else to do now. Oh well, a mindless app on your phone to play until Grillby gets back it is.

 

After ten minutes on a game to connect the dots, you look up and around. Grillby is chatting with some of the others. Well, you can't be totally selfish, you basically just walked in here one day and declared it your new second home without asking anyone and claimed Grillby as your new best friend. It's not like you've even talked to anyone else, other than to say ‘excuse me’ or ‘hi’ to a few whom you may want to become friends with. You're making some good progress on the canines if you say so yourself. The whole monster thing flies over your head now because every time you walk in here, you just see people. It's wishful thinking, but maybe someday humans could at least tolerate monsters and they could get along with each other.

 

You silently laugh at yourself because humans are assholes, even you sometimes, though you try not to be, and you go back to your game. You don't notice when Grillby comes back behind the bar, and he doesn't interrupt you.

 

“heya, grillbz. the regular and-”

 

“Sans?!”

 

You thrust your phone down onto the countertop and snap your head to the right to see if your ears had deceived you, and you see Sans sitting right there, looking back at you incredulously. It looks like he hasn’t slept in days; there are visible dark circles under his sockets. His eye lights are small pinpricks. He looks very tired. The kind of tired where you don't want to deal with or do anything and you just want to sleep for a long time.

 

“oh… hey, (y/n). didn't expect to see you here,” Sans drawls, avoiding your eyes. Damn, he even  _ sounds _ depressed, and his smile seems forced. What exactly has this poor guy been through? Besides the obvious of being trapped underground his whole life. Not like that has anything to do with it.

 

“...I didn't either. Grillby says he hasn't seen you for days. Are you doing okay?” you take this moment to ask because if you were in that state, you'd want someone else to ask you. Even if you'd lie about the answer, much like you expect this skeleton to.

 

Sans’ eye lights flick over to you from his slouched position on the barstool (he's still taller than you!) for a second before he settles on studying the counter. Was that something in his expression? Confliction? A plea? “yeah, fine. been working myself  _ down to the bone _ is all… heh.”

 

That laugh didn't even sound half-hearted. Is this even the same guy you met a few weeks ago? Knowing that Sans probably isn't going to talk much more, you decide to fill in the silence between you two. “I just recently started coming here. I found this place online and the food is amazing! Not as great as Grillby himself, though. Haha, he's literally the hottest guy I've ever met.” You aren't getting much of a reaction out of Sans, but when you bring up Grillby, he swivels his seat only slightly to look at you a little more directly than before. His gaze seems a little… judgemental, and you didn't really like it.

 

It's a miracle that Grillby swoops in with Sans' order right then and there. At least half of it, you soon discover.

 

“thanks. could i also get some of… that?” Sans points to a bottle across from him. Grillby stares at the other for a good few seconds before he turns and retrieves said bottle from the shelf and places it in front of Sans with a shot glass. Is it a good idea to get wasted when you're not feeling emotionally good? Grillby certainly thought not. You only half agree.

 

Sans sips his ketchup bottle (again HOW?? You still need those answers because magic ain't cutting it anymore) before pouring himself a glass of alcohol from a brand you've never heard of. Maybe it’s monster alcohol. Is it not as strong as human alcohol? Did monsters even have alcohol underground? Or are you just not knowledgeable in alcohols? He downs it quickly and repeats that several times in a row.

 

“Sans…” Grillby is polishing that same glass from earlier and is looking at Sans with something similar to worry or distaste. It could've been either one or maybe both.

 

“sorry, grillby. i just… really need this right now.” The tone of his voice is enough to break your heart. He sounds so miserable and so absolutely  _ done _ with everything. Could you try and talk to him, distract him from whatever is hitting him so hard? It's worth a shot, and you've been wanting to have a real conversation with him for the longest time, anyway.

 

“Sooo. How're you doing with Papyrus in your apartment?”

 

“uh, for one, we moved into a house. we didn't like the apartment anymore,” he responds after taking another shot, then he moves on to nurse his ketchup.

 

They moved into a house?! Why didn't either brother tell you that? “Oh, that's cool. How is that going? Was it hard to find one?”

 

“‘s good. it took a few tries to find someone who would take our gold, but paps and i ended up with a decent sized house, a little bigger than the one we had underground. it’s nice.”

 

“That's good.” You don't really know what else to say. Why do you suck at cheering people up? Or talking in general? 

 

“yeah.” He doesn't say anymore. Grillby simply watched the both of you interact with each other. You grow restless and start drumming your hands on the counter. Sans isn't even looking better, and you wanted to take his mind off of things. He's just drowning his problems in alcohol and they might get worse by the morning, whatever they may be. Maybe all those jobs he said he worked is stressing him out. Or the apparently very recent transition from apartment to house. There could be a load of reasons, and you're just a little angry that you don't know any of them.

 

“Why don't you talk to anyone about what's bothering you?” The words slip out before you can stop yourself. Honestly, though, you let yourself do this.

 

“...don't know what ya mean, kid,” he responds and reaches for the alcohol bottle again, but you swipe it away from him before he can drink more.

 

“Bullshit!” you snap, and if the bottle were alive, you would've strangled it to death by now. You take a second to calm down because chewing Sans out is not the proper solution, and aren't you just real fond of the word ‘shit’ now? “Sans, I know that you're a mysterious person and you keep a lot to yourself. You don't tell anybody anything, but why? People only want to help you and you aren't letting them! Do you have any idea how frustrating that is? I'm getting frustrated myself and I haven't known you that long, so I can't even imagine how it must be for someone who has been watching you suffer for years! Clearly, no one wants to see you like this, and you're falling apart at the seams right now. Maybe you just want to hide it to not burden anyone or whatever, but would you rather do that or worry someone because they don't know what's tearing you apart from the inside so much that it's affecting everything you do in your life?”

 

Now that you think back on what you said, you realize you're being hypocritical.

You hate that so much.


	10. Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some sad times and some glad times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EDIT -- made better

It’s suddenly quiet. You turn around and see that everyone's attention is directed towards both of you. They didn't look annoyed; it’s more like concern, or... pity? Before you could find out, the eight or so monsters return to their conversations with palpable tension remaining in the air. It is getting late, so only what you can assume to be the regulars are still here. There really aren’t very many people here compared to a few hours ago, but still… Turning back to Sans, you feel a little bad. He stares blankly at the countertop, cheekbones flushed cerulean, barely clinging to his almost-full ketchup bottle. Why had you raised your voice so much? You blush with embarrassment and open your mouth to spit something out, maybe an apology, but Sans speaks first and cuts you off.

 

“grillby? could i step upstairs for a while?” His tone sounds dead and eerily steady, his eye lights downcast. From what you can see, they're tiny, hazy specks.

 

Grillby is still standing slightly off to the side, gripping the dish rag and shot glass tightly. At the mention of his name, he slowly resumes his perpetual polishing then replies. He seems weary, but he always seems to be like that when you see him. “...Of course, Sans. Take as long as you need.”

 

Oh, yay, Sans avoiding his problems and any conversation topic regarding him  _ again _ . Someday, you’re going to straight up yell in his face ‘Sans, you better GET YOUR SHIT TOGETHER and just--’

 

There’s suddenly a very strong grip on your wrist, and you’re reminded of that time in the pet shop when Sans was infuriated at you. You cautiously look over at him. His head is down, hiding his eye sockets and grin which seemed sad anyways. His arm is extended out, giving away what is cutting off circulation to your hand. Is it wrong to be just a little scared? Because you no doubt pissed him off again, and he sure isn’t going to be pleased about that. 

 

Without warning, everything stutters, then there’s nothing. It’s the place where emptiness persisted everywhere, and you really hoped you wouldn’t have to come back here. Is it colder than last time? Can there even be weather in a void or at least a temperature? Fear sinks into you for several different reasons as the seconds -- minutes or hours, you don’t know anymore -- tick by and  _ nothing happens _ . The chilling and terrifying nothingness remains a desolate, inky blackness. You can’t take it anymore. It’s too silent, too null, too lacking in  _ anything _ . Wait, is that something-  _ someone  _ across from you?

 

_ Thunk. _ You fall on top of something solid. Your breathing is shallow and fast and it feels like you can’t breathe at all, why  _ not? _ Terror plagues your mind, blocking all of the clearly logical thoughts that you know should be happening instead of this, this… panic. You’re shaking a little, mostly your arms, and you collapse onto… the floor? It’s probably a floor. A hardwood floor. A smooth, dark, hardwood floor.

 

You remind yourself to breathe steadily. Oh, you did  _ not _ just have a mini fucking panic attack over the  _ dark.  _ You focus on the floor as your erratic breathing becomes normal again, and you stop shaking knowing that you’re  _ somewhere _ . There’s even a soft rug nearby, a shade of purple. How homely.

 

That’s when you notice the sobbing. Loud, broken, throat-wrenching sobs, coming from another figure in the room. It -- no, he,  _ Sans  _ \-- is leaning against something -- a wall, with translucent blue liquid pooling down his face and illuminating part of the room. (Maybe that rug is actually red.)

 

Tears. They flow down freely like they’ve been trapped for a long time and they’re just now tasting freedom. You crawl over to him, not even caring if he's angry or not. He's hurt, and that's all that matters right now. He should not be feeling that way. Wrapping your arms around his trembling form, you hold him close to you, the small buzz of magic noticeable and you realize you've never been this close to him before. He tenses up, cringing away from you as if to avoid some kind of horrendous event. Each time he does it, you just approach him again, and he ends up cornering himself, giving up trying to evade you altogether. He eventually clings onto you tightly, crying into the front of your shirt and you try to comfort him by rubbing circles on his… back. At least, it  _ feels _ like he has a back and not just a spine and vertebrae, but what would you know about skeleton monsters?

 

Sans leans against you, and minute by minute, his crying dies down a little bit more. When that turns into the occasional half-choked sob, you start to repeat simple, reassuring phrases. Now, you’re trying to pull away from him to make proper conversation, but he refuses to let go of you. You can’t pry his strong grip from around your torso. Oh well, what else are you gonna do about it? You'll just let him have his way.

 

“Sans?”

 

He looks up at you, completely broken and tired and afraid. Blue tear tracks stain his face, and he isn’t even smiling anymore. You didn’t even know that he  _ couldn’t  _ smile. He seems to remember what he’s doing and peels away from you in an instant. Looking away, he draws his knees up to his chest and places his arms around them to pull them tight to his body. “‘m s-sorry. don’ even know why i dragged you here with me.”

 

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it. I’m here for you,” you smile at him, but his expression just saddens even more.

 

“‘s not okay. nothin’s okay. everything’s complicated.” He drops his skull on top of his patellas, and you frown. You’ve never seen someone so distraught before, someone so… demoralized and uptight and  _ tired _ . Someone like Sans. You really have no idea what to do. You just bring him closer to you again and sit there for a while longer, mostly because that’s what you would want if you were feeling like that. Resting your head on the side of his shoulder, you think about a lot. Nothing in particular, but a lot.

 

“...I’ll listen if you still wanna talk,” you reiterate. You’re not quite ready to move on yet, but this isn’t about you.

 

“no... no. don’t wanna talk. not about that,” Sans says, his grip -- which had moved back to you at some point -- constricting again slightly. You nod against him in understanding. You also take note of how sober he seems, barely slurring and surprisingly oriented. “but… why… why do you wanna help me?”

 

You mull over that question for a moment. There are a lot of reasons why you did, besides the obvious of seriously wanting to help him and honestly, you don’t know if you can list them all, let alone have the confidence to tell him that you want to learn more about him. “Does the reason really matter? I just want everyone to be happy and live their lives, including monsters. Including you. No one deserves to  _ not  _ have a chance to experience joy or have stupid fights with themselves or their friends.”  _ Maybe no one except you. _

_ No, get the  _ fuck _ outta here. It’s not about you. _

 

“I hate how humans are always fighting. Wars, arguments... Why can't there just be peace? Why can't people just get along with each other? Everything would be so much easier, so much safer if there weren't terrorists or nuclear bomb threats or whatever else and we just suck it up and help others when disaster strikes. But most humans are corrupt and downright evil and they don't care what happens to anyone else. I don't understand how someone could do something so horrible and not feel remorse, even for something small, like… I don't know, something.

“And there are all these people cheating on their boyfriends or girlfriends. That's a big deal, and they go off and do it anyways, thinking that it’s  _ not _ a big deal, and the other person is left feeling dejected, like the whole thing they had was meaningless and it probably was because that other person is such an asshole and they just  _ don’t care _ .” You didn't expect yourself to vent about the world and it's unsolvable problems to Sans, but hey, life hasn't exactly been normal for you, has it? “People want their own ideas heard and they don't let others speak their ideas because they're different and people don't like different. I doubt monsters were ever this bad, not even close…”

 

Is Sans even listening to you? “...I'll try to always be there for you.”

He shifts slightly.

“You have to let me.”

You're greeted with silence.

“I don't like seeing people suffer when I know I can do something,  _ anything,  _ to help… even if I don’t understand. I don’t know what you’ve been through, but… I want to help.”

 

“i guess… i asked the wrong question. why are you so kind, (y/n)?”

 

“Why do you keep avoiding talking about you and your very obvious problems?” Lifting your head, you gesture at the area around Sans with your hands.

 

“i’m being serious,” he snaps defensively, completely pulling away from you. The comfort you didn’t even realize was there left with him. “there’re literally thousands, if not, millions of people with the same soul trait as you and none of them even come  _ close _ to you. all that stuff you just said about the world, about your own race, why aren't you like that? why are you so different from everyone else?”

 

“…” You don't have an answer to that. Why  _ aren't  _ you like everyone else? “I honestly don't know.”

 

Obviously, your attitude has something to do with the soul colors Sans was talking about at the coffee place and just now. He never told you which one you are, but you forgot to mention that you wanted to know about it in the first place. Hell, you forgot what the traits and their corresponding colors even are. They’re like a rainbow, sort of. That's all you can remember. You push your curious thoughts aside; you can learn about souls another time, even though you really want to know which one you are.

 

“Why are you so reserved? You can talk to your friends. It’s okay to not be okay. There’s no reason not to,” you assure him, only half expecting for him to listen.  _ Why don’t you listen to your own advice? _

_ Fucking shut up. _

 

“i just… i don’t  _ know _ ,” he murmurs, voice trembling and on the brink of breaking again. He buries his face in his arms, the fabric muffling his voice. “no one would understand. there's no point. it’ll all just go away. it won’t matter in the end… it never does. it’s just easier this way. heh,” he laughs bitterly, tilting his skull to look at you. It doesn’t even seem like he is, though, more like gazing past you,  _ through  _ you, at something more. His eye lights are dull and dismal. Visible dysphoria. “course it’s easier to do nothing. to pretend. but really, it isn’t. it’s hard, it’s so fucking hard to do anything when i know it’s pointless, when  _ no one remembers _ . why do i even bother trying? the facade just keeps deteriorating…” Sans tilts his head back into his arms. “heh, heh… i don’t think’ll ever get used to this surface thing…”

 

Sans mumbles a few more words that you don't catch, then he doesn’t say anything more. It’s like he abandoned the words that were trying to explain whatever he’s talking about.

 

“Sans, what do you mean?” you ask softly. It feels wrong to ask him this right now, while he’s intoxicated and vulnerable, but…

Do you really have a choice, here?

 

He shakes his head slightly. “you wouldn’t get it. no one does. might as well call me crazy n’ leave now.”

 

You really should stop, but you decide to push it, one more time. “Okay, I doubt I’ll understand, but I'm not leaving your side until-”

 

“stop being so goddamn nice!” Sans raises his voice, frustration and fear leaking through the words. “it’ll just make it harder if i start caring and you’ll leave right when i start to get comfortable for whatever reason, or, heh, even better! the kid comes back and you’ll have  _ no fucking memory  _ of this at all.” 

 

You sit there, stunned and on the verge of tears. He’s mad at you for trying to help him? He sounds so petrified, though, like he's crying for help but refuses to receive it; a bear’s leg clamped in a trap. It's like he's torn between wanting to trust you and not having anything to do with you. He’s right, though; maybe you won’t ever understand what he’s talking about. Maybe he’ll never even tell you. That’s okay with you. But to hell if you’re going to stop being “too nice.”

 

You swallow your tears and emotions concealed in a lump in your throat. “Sans. I am going to help you. No matter what. Okay? I will  _ never _ abandon you. Neither you or… or your family, if you let me meet them. That’s… that’s what friends are for, aren’t they?” Even with the most effort, your voice cracks and your eyes mist with tears. You don’t even know why; it just happens. You’re about to move to greedily gain comfort from Sans, but he’s already moving towards you and draping his arms around you. Slowly, you bring your arms up to embrace him in return. It stays like this for awhile, until both of your tears dry up and it’s comfortably silent.

 

“...okay. i'm willing to try. i’m willing to let you in. i mean, really let you in. not the bullshit i’ve been pulling since i met you. we can actually hang out and i’ll introduce you to my friends and stuff.”

 

You smile and nod your head against him, letting him know you understand that much. You’re super excited about this, but you don’t let it show.

 

“but just know, if you ever hurt my family in any way…” Sans pauses, and you can feel him look away. You can tell he’s trying his hardest not to squeeze you so hard that he’d strangle you. “...i will  **_never_ ** forgive you.”

 

You swallow nervously. You were expecting something more like “you'll regret it” or even “I’ll kill you”, but not something as sincere as this. In a way, what he said scared you even more than any death threat ever could. “Okay,” you say. That’s all you could think of.

 

After a few more minutes, Sans stirs, then stands up after he disconnects himself from you. He looks away again. “uh… thanks, by the way. i think i really needed that, everything you just did.”

 

“Oh, um… you’re welcome.”

 

His feet scuff the floor. The soft material of house slippers barely make a noise on the wood. “ya wanna head back to grillby’s now?” asks Sans.

 

“Yeah. Sure.”

 

He takes your hand gently. Not forceful or involuntary like the last times. Assuming you’re just going through the emptiness again. “Hey, Sans?”

 

“yeah?” He glances at you. The tear tracks are gone. His cheeks are flushed blue. Have they been blue this whole time, ever since he got “drunk”?

 

“You can teleport, right? That’s what happens whenever we go through…” How would you put that place into words when trying to explain it to someone?

 

“the void. yeah. are you just now figuring that out?” Sans turns back to you, passion slowly burning back into his voice.

 

“So you  _ can _ teleport. That’s… kinda insane.” Straight up, next level  _ sci-fi shit. _ What the actual hell?

 

“that seriously flew over your head? does it look like we’re still in grillby’s?” he gestures around him. “news flash: i can teleport, and use  _ magic _ .”

 

“Hey, in my defense,” you laugh at how stupid you must sound to him. “I still don’t really know how magic works.”

 

“obviously. heh, heh, you’re a moron,” he chuckles with you, rolling his eye lights. It doesn’t sound as stolid or empty as it did earlier. “call ‘em shortcuts. real convenient.”

 

With those words, everything warps and you’re back in… the Void? That’s what Sans called it, right? But it lasts not even a second. You’re standing back at Grillby’s, right next to the barstool you were at not long ago. Looking around (only slightly disoriented), you see that only the dogs are still here beside you, Sans, and Grillby. Sans is already punning up a storm with Grillby and smiling like nothing bad even happened. He does seem better. 100 times better than when he first got here. Grillby is clearly relieved, too.

 

You smile and take a seat to the left of Sans and listen to the two chat. It’s when you yawn and set your head on the table that you realize how drowsy you feel. How late is it, anyway? You close your eyes for a moment.

 

“(y/n)? you gonna sleep there, or go home?” Sans questions, tapping the top of your head.

 

“Ugh. Can I sleep here? I don’t feel like walking home at…” Your eyes shift around the room, trying to locate a clock. Aaannnndd... there it is. You jolt up and almost fall over, but you catch yourself. “Holy shit, it’s past two in the morning? I didn’t realize it was that late!” The fluffy canines aren’t even here anymore.  _ Grillby _ isn’t even here anymore.

 

“well, you kinda fell asleep over there. i’m also giving you a ride. where do you live?” Sans pulls out his phone and waits for you to answer.

 

Normally, you would argue that you didn’t need a ride and that you would feel bad about someone going out of their way to take you home. Right now isn’t normal, though. You are half-asleep and talking to a skeleton typing away on a cell phone.

 

So that’s how you end up in a very expensive-looking red convertible with a pair of skeleton brothers. It turns out that Papyrus is used to Sans’ “shenanigans” and is ready at any time to pick him up somewhere, as he so ranted for the first five minutes of the ride. (Not before he said hello to you, though.) For the rest of the short drive, you relax in the backseat, eavesdropping on their bickering as you start drifting off again.

 

You barely recall being guided up the stairs to your apartment, mishandling your keys, and stumbling into your room, collapsing on the bed and promptly falling asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news! Now that these two are FINALLLLYYY real friends, there should be more exciting chapters and not just angsty fillers about you whining about Sans all day


	11. Wistful Hopes and Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Overwhelmed but okay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot twist, I finish editing AND post a brand new chapter. Love you guys, and especially thanks to those of you who are sticking with me through this. It means sooo much, you have no idea <3

*3 unread message(s)*

  
  


07:30

-Grillbz: Whatever you did with Sans last night, I must thank you. He has not been that happy for quite some time now. It really is nice to see him so euphoric. I am eager to see you at my restaurant again soon, Miss (Y/n).

 

08:24

-PAPYYYYYYRUS: GREETINGS, (Y/N)!! I HOPE YOU HAVE A LOVELY DAY TODAY!!!!! DO SOMETHING FUN, AND TEXT ME BACK, TOO!!! ALSO!! THANK YOU FOR MAKING SANS HAPPY AGAIN!! IT'S LIKE YOU FLIPPED A SWITCH OR SOMETHING. I WISH I COULD SIMPLY DO THAT, THAT WAY HE'D BE HAPPY ALL THE TIME!! I LOVE SEEING HIM SO JOYFUL AND IT SEEMS LIKE HE HAS BEEN VERY SAD FOR A WHILE. BUT ANYWAYS, I BELIEVE THE BOTH OF YOU WILL HANG OUT TODAY?? I GUESS THAT WILL BE FUN ENOUGH, AS LONG AS SANS DOESN’T PLAGUE YOUR LIFE WITH PUNS!! HAVE FUN!!!

 

10:04

-Magical snas: heya, ya free 2day?

 

~

 

You haven’t been up very long, but it’s now 11:09. You had sent a text back, each one appealing to each person. Grillby’s text flattered you, and you didn't exactly know how to respond, but you managed. You absolutely love Papyrus’ texts, and he does that every morning! It's so sweet, and it's honestly what allows you to power through your days. When you saw Sans’ text, you were more than a little thrilled. You  _ flipped out _ , but when you calmed down, you replied not as enthusiastically as you felt, but it gave the message all the same. You’re still trying to get around for the day, which has been pretty okay so far. It’s proven that it’s going to be difficult today and for the next week when you’re going to be bleeding out of your bleeding hole. Eff em ell. But, you’re planning to meet Sans for lunch at Grillby’s, then leave to do stuff. What stuff, you don’t know, but it should be fun.

 

You go through your routine of singing (screaming) your heart out to your favorite songs in the morning, and before you know it, it’s already 11:57.

 

“Oh sheit, biotch, I gotta run,” you screech to yourself over the blaring music (your neighbors must really hate you) and slam the button to turn off your speaker. Grabbing your phone, wallet, and keys, you rush through the door, still happily swinging your arms and humming. Once you’re in the car, you plug your phone back in and play some old Twenty One Pilots because it’s literally one of the best things  _ ever. _ (“ _ I’ll stay AWAKE, cause the DARK’S NOT TAKING PRISONERS TONIGHT!!”  _ You’re so satisfied when you hit the notes  _ without _ your voice cracking!) Soon enough, you’re pulling into the back parking lots near Grillby’s and you fly out of the car when it’s parked, hoping you aren’t too late. Traffic coming over was actually pretty bad.

 

“Don’t woRRY I’M HERE!” You burst into Grillby’s, gaining the incredulous look from every patron currently present, including Sans. He hops off his stool and makes his way over to you.

 

“well, hello to you, too,” he chuckles, a soft smile on his face. “i was just about to text you to make sure you were actually coming.”

 

“Pfft, me, stand someone up?” you say and then laugh. “...Well, I mean, probably, if I forget or sleep in, haha. Never with you though, Sans. I can guarantee that.”

 

“heh, thanks, that’s pretty awesome. and if you ever do stand me up, i’ll just take your phone number and track you down and drag you out of wherever the hell you were so we can hang out. sound good?”

 

Honestly, you can’t tell if he’s joking or not, but you’re safe to assume he’s not kidding. He is super smart; he could easily figure that shit out. 

 

“Sure thang,” you chirp, then walk past him to sit at the barstools. It takes a few seconds before you hear Sans lumbering after you. Hahahah, you probably threw him off with your reconciliation. He thought he could play you. BITCH, NOT TODAY.

 

“I want foooooooOOOOOOOOD!” Goddamn, you’re so annoying and loud and needy right now. You feel no shame whatsoever. It’s the fucking hormones’ fault, not yours!

 

A door swings open, revealing your hero of the day. “Do not worry, (Y/n). Your food is right here.” Grillby steps out of the kitchen with two trays of food just in time.

 

“HALLELUJAH! Thank you, Jesus!” you exclaim, eagerly reaching out for the burger and fries still a good ten feet away from you.

 

Sans chuckles again. “someone’s happy. and loud.”

 

“Since when is that a bad thing?” You stop halfway from grabbing a fry to cast Sans a raised eyebrow. “I CAN DO WHAT I WANT.” You then proceed to stuff your face with a handful of fries.

 

“if you don’t slow down, you’re gonna eat the entire restaurant. and lower your voice, you’re worse than papyrus at this point.”

 

You snort and almost spit out all of the food in your mouth. In a sad attempt to prevent this, you throw a hand in front of your mouth to stifle your giggles. Sans merely raises his own brow at you before laughing himself and reaching for his own food and that only worsened your current predicament because you wanted to laugh  _ so bad _ .

 

When you can finally control yourself, you eat like a normal person and initiate pleasant conversation with your skeletal companion. Grillby throws in a few comments every once in awhile, and soon enough, you and Sans are ready to go explore the world.

 

As you reach into your wallet to pay for the food, Grillby places a flame over your hand. You look up at him, wondering what he wants, and he shakes his head.

 

“No need to pay for that, Miss (Y/n). Consider this a gift, for you being such a benevolent person. I can not properly express my gratitude for you assisting the ones I care about.”

 

“ayy, so (y/n) here has a tab that she doesn’t need to pay off, either?” Sans snakes up beside you, looking at Grillby with interest. You simply stare at them, puzzled.

 

“Precisely,” Grillby smiles at you before he walks away to tend other customers, and Sans hums in approval. You simply keep staring after Grillby, still puzzled.

 

“Wait, whaaat?” you manage to say. You turn your head to look at Sans who has a dopey smile on his skull. It looks funny on a guy his size.

 

He faces you and leans against the countertop. “i’ll put it in simple terms: free. food.” He emphasizes “free food” with a fist tapping the bar on each word.

 

You gasp, face widening as you stand there, baffled, and the realization that you can just keep coming here, ordering food, and  _ not _ pay for it comes. “Well! Uh! That’s great! But I’m not going to  _ not  _ pay for my food! Grillby needs to make a living somehow, and I order here so frequently.” You gaze at the fire doors in which Grillby disappeared through. You’d feel too horrible if you carried on with this plan.

 

“(y/n), really, don’t worry about it. he wouldn’t have given you that if he couldn’t handle it, and he really does appreciate you, uh… helping me out… when you did.” Sans’ smile gets sad. Eye lights shrink. “he was real worried about me, y’know?”

 

…What do you say to that?? You’ve literally been telling him that for  _ forever, _ but you don’t wanna rain on his already rainy parade. Just as you’re about to bullshit an answer, he steps out of that haze. “‘sides, i was a regular down underground. do ya know how many things have added up on my tab? cause he showed me the bill one time, and it was more than my entire life savings.” He breaks off into nostalgic chuckles, and you’re relieved to see the light and color returning.

 

“Haha, and you didn’t have to pay it?”

 

“nope. not a single gold coin. trust me, it’ll be fine.”

 

“If you insist…” Still reluctant about the whole deal, you just agree (and place a ten on the counter) and move to the door with Sans.

 

“So what should we do first?” you ask as soon as the two of you step foot outside of the food establishment.

 

Sans shrugs, looking quite unsure himself. “uh, i don’t know. haven’t been anywhere, really, except maybe for that one corner of the park. it’s pretty nice there.”

 

“Oh, I know!” You perk up, even more enthusiasm flowing through you. “Don’t call me lame, but we should go to the library!” Sans would be into that, right…?

 

His grin widens and his eye lights brighten substantially. “oh, hell yeah! where is it? i can take us there in two seconds.”

 

“Uhhmhmhm… Pretty sure it’s by that one hardware store… do you know the one I’m--” But Sans had already grabbed your hand and suddenly you’re in front of the library, twenty minutes time away in only a matter of seconds. You smile idiotically as he pulls you up the stairs and inside, happy that he’s so excited about this.

 

“how come i haven’t been here yet…?” Sans asks, slightly distracted by all of the information he’s surrounded by. He’s taking it in, and you’re sure he’s never been around so many books in one place before.

 

“I don’t know. You haven’t been up here for very long, and this place doesn’t really look like a library. More like a courthouse or something. Too official looking.” You know Sans is only half-listening to you, but you don’t want to kill his good mood. It’s so different than what you’ve seen before. Different from his depression, and different from his fury. He’s like a child in a candy store here. “Do you wanna start in the nonfiction spacey section, or--”

 

“yes!” Sans takes off so abruptly that you stumble, and he ends up dragging you across the room for the nonfiction section, your shoes skimming over the carpeted floors. It must look so ridiculous to bystanders, but luckily the library is pretty much empty right now. Why is it that every time you’re with Sans, he has to drag you in some way, shape, or form?

 

Depositing you next to him (and kindly asking if you’re okay after a quick apology), Sans directs all of his energy to the shelves and shelves of books, all with information about space, stars, constellations, and so many more things of the like. Taking a swift peek at his face, you find that he really does look genuinely happy. His smile is tremendous, his eye sockets are slightly crinkled (again, how malleable is his face exactly??), and his eye lights -- oh sweet cheese and crackers, there are bright  _ stars _ in them instead of the default white dots, and it’s freaking adorable. He’s still browsing the selection he has right in front of him, so you find the precious time to snatch your phone out of your pocket and snap a picture of him. He doesn’t notice. Even better.

 

Snickering quietly to yourself, you pocket your phone and look around for something interesting. A sudden thought comes to mind. Are you able to find any information here about monsters? You’ve never had to consider it before, and now would be the perfect opportunity to find something. Going to the computer, you search “monsters,” but all of the results are kids’ books and theories on cliche monsters, like zombies or vampires. C’mon, can't you think of something more specific?

 

…What’s the name of the mountain that they all came from? If you can remember that, then you're sure to find something. Mount… something. Bayton? Elli? Estes? None of those sound right. Pulling out your phone, you open a search engine and type in “mount” as a starter. And there it is! “Mount Ebott,” still fresh in the news. You'd have to look at whatever crazy things people come up with later because right now you're typing two words into the library’s catalog database. Boom, mission accomplished. A few entries pop up, and they're all in the nonfiction section. That’s a good sign. You type the call numbers of the books into an app on your phone and make your way over to where they should be.

 

Luckily, none of those resources have been checked out, so you take every single one of them, find a table, and sit down. The first few books aren't very helpful, simply explaining the geography, how long it has been there and even some tourist sites, but nothing about any history of monsters. The other two, however, suggest otherwise. You put the useless information back where you found it, leaving you only with the two fairly old-looking books. They’re very worn, and you can’t even make out who the authors are. You hope these are credible sources.

 

As you open the first one, the musty aroma of an ancient book hits you full on. Displeasing, yes, but full of promising information that you’re convinced will help you in your research.

 

_ Long ago, two races ruled over Earth: HUMANS and MONSTERS. _

_ One day, war broke out between the two races _

_ After a long battle, the humans were victorious. _

_ They sealed the monsters underground with a magic spell. _

_ Many years later... _

_ Mt. Ebott, 201X _

_ Legends say that those who climb the mountain never return. _

 

Illustrations decorate the pages. There’s a few of the mountain itself, some of monsters, some of humans, and then of what happened at Mount Ebott in 201X. Was this the first child that fell? Or any of the other children? You turn the next few pages, reading through everything.

 

_ The first child was found by the Prince of Monsters himself: Asriel Dreemurr. He took the human back to his home where his parents, Toriel and Asgore Dreemurr, took them in as their own. Chara and Asriel got along as well as any pair of siblings could have, and their relationship quickly developed into a strong one for children their age. Alas, that shattered when Chara grew ill then died. All of the Underground mourned for this loss. Asriel was driven by grief when he picked up his adoptive sibling's body one last time. He absorbed Chara’s soul of Determination and was then able to cross the barrier with that power of a monster soul and a human soul. His dead sibling’s last wish was to lie upon the golden flower bed in the village from where they once resided. _

_ Upon arriving, the village broke out in terror, gathering weaponry to defend themselves against him, for they all thought he murdered the innocent child and had come back for more. Asriel smiled sadly as they began chasing and beating him repeatedly, showing no mercy for the monster child. He refused to fight back, even though he had the ability, the primal urge to strike each and every one of them down. He refused to kill, not even to gather six of their souls in order for the residents of the Underground to roam free. Killing merely felt wrong. _

_ Escaping the villagers took a great effort on the Prince’s part, and when he returned home, he collapsed in front of his parents in the King’s flower garden, still holding Chara close to him. Not even healing magic from the Queen could save Asriel, but it gained him a few more moments of life. He uttered his tale on the surface in his last dying breaths; how amazing it was, how it was warm and felt so clean, how beautiful the sun sitting on the lake was, how the grass and trees freely grew everywhere, how breath-taking the stars in the sky were while walking home, how much he cared about Chara, and how the humans of the village were so cruel, so harrowing, so merciless. He didn’t believe that anyone could be like that until that night. With one final smile, Asriel started to dust, the unheard words of “forgive me” echoing through the room, and the Prince was no more. _

_ Asgore, blinded by rage and grief, declared that any humans who fall down will be annihilated and their soul will be collected to go towards breaking the barrier. Though the new law was brutal, it was one that needed to be enforced. Asgore assembled a Royal Guard, mercenaries from the war and any other volunteers to be soldiers that devote their lives’ to the King and his bidding to take on the task of capturing humans. Years passed, and not a single human has fallen. The King was weary, desperate for something to happen. With his children gone and his wife still deeply disheartened, he felt oddly powerless, despite being the one ruling the Underground.  _

_ Eventually, word spread of a human child spotted in the Ruins, making their way towards Snowdin, and Asgore acted immediately. He commanded that all Ruins and Snowdin Royal Guards locate the human and bring them to him. Toriel questioned his methods, arguing that killing an innocent child was so morally wrong, but Asgore did not listen. The Queen stormed out of the castle, never to be seen again. Soon after this event, the Ruins doors mysteriously closed and they remain sealed to this day. It is still unknown what brought that about, and no one has been able to break through the magic. _

_ Quite some time passed, and a tiny girl escorted by Royal Guardsmen was presented to Asgore. She looked up at the King, trembling and fearful. Asgore saw the tears sparkling in her light blue eyes, and he suddenly understood what Toriel was talking about. He hesitated but ordered the guards to leave him and the girl be. The King figured that he did not have anything to lose in killing the child; his wife had left him, his own kids were dead. He couldn’t back out on the law he created for the sour vengeance he wished to receive. In summoning his trident and seeing the fear heighten in the sweet child’s eyes, he knew he made the wrong choice, but what about his people? How were monsters supposed to see the light of day ever again? Morale was low, monsters were dying without the hope they desperately needed, and if gathering souls was the only answer to these things, then he needed to take that responsibility. _

_ News about the soul spread throughout the Underground quickly, and it helped them hope. They were one step closer to escaping. It inspired people, influencing them to join the Royal Guard, to stay cheerful, to stay hopeful, if only to get out and onto the surface. Because to monsters, the surface was everything. _

 

You set the book down rather than turn the pages and keep going. Oh dear God, that’s awful. You wipe the tears out of your eyes, ones that have accumulated since you read about Asriel’s death. This is so heartbreaking, so  _ wrong _ . You peer down at the book and turn back where the photograph of the Dreemurr family is, then flip through the various pictures of a young Asriel and Chara. There are drawings in here, too, showing what it might have been like during particular scenes. This book is outdated, but it shows a great amount of history. Sorrowful and dismal, but what’s history without wars or “great terrors”? You’ll have to read the rest soon, but you need a break from it for right now.

 

Standing up and taking a steady deep breath, you make your way to the self-checkout stand and scan the book. Once completed, you bag the book, make your way back to the table, and have a seat.

 

The next book sits just within your reach, but you’re a little uncertain about it. You don’t want it to be as sad as that other one was. You’re hoping to get more information from the head figures, like the King, Queen, and whoever else was important down there. Bracing yourself for another sad time, you pick up the book, only slightly larger in size. The name on the cover is slightly more legible than the previous. It’s difficult to read, but you can make it out, just barely.

 

**W.D. Gaster**

 

Is that a monster, or a human? Because if it is written by a human, it better not be biased, and if it’s written by a monster, it better not make you cry a river. When you open it to the table of contents, you freeze.

 

“The hell…?” you mutter to yourself, squinting at the print. It’s a bunch of symbols that you can’t read, but you’ve seen these somewhere. Where is that? It’s in a program, you know that much, but you haven’t used whatever it is in so long. It’s obviously some type of font, but what is it called? As you ponder it, you flip through the book to find the same hand-written symbols filling up the pages with nothing different. But then you realize that there are notes written on the side with the standardized alphabet, albeit sloppy ones.

 

_ Of course!! _ _ why didn’t I think of that! _

_ Calculations are wrong here _

_ Oh wait nvm, they’re right _

 

You flip to the first few pages, wondering if you simply skipped over other scribbles, and you soon find that you did. In fact, there’s at least one on every single page. The very first one is signed “A” near the top, and you take this to be more of a notebook than anything else.

 

_ wing dings _

_ Interesting point _

_ I can’t even math compared to this _

_ theory true? _

_ <\-- _ **_???_ **

_ The king requested this? _

_ So familiar, but... _

_ Makes sense _

_ telekinesis?! _

_ <3  _ **_U_ ** _  “^^” _

_ Is this how the core functions? _

_ blue, light blue = integ, pat _

_ damn really complicated _

_ How can he  _ _ teleport? _

_ ‘Time is precious…  _ my end _ … nigh’…? _

_ ^ _ _ who’s _ _? _

**_Who is Gaster??_ **

 

“don’t read that.”

 

“AHHH!” You throw the book down and fall backward in your chair. Before you hit the ground, Sans easily grabs the chair and lifts it back on all fours. You whirl around in your seat to find a somber-looking Sans. He eyes the book for a few seconds. He then reaches over and picks it up. As your heart rate slows down, you note the seriousness that Sans is displaying. Did you do something wrong?

 

“hey, uh, where’d you get this from?” he asks, flapping the book in his hand for emphasis.

 

“...From over there,” you say as you point to where you got it from, studying him. He seems confounded; he’s stopped mistreating the paper, at least. He cracks it open, peering inside. “There’s just a bunch of weird symbols in there, I doubt you’ll be able to decipher it.”

 

For the shortest second, Sans goes rigid, but it was so fast you don’t know if what you saw really happened or not. Then the cover starts… moving. The spots that have been colored through time rearrange themselves, migrating somewhere new. You’re too bewildered to say anything, but what would you say, anyway? ‘ _ Hey, Sans, that book is haunted.’ _ The movement suddenly ceases, and you’re left with two words:  _ SAVE ME. _ It looks so… desperate, hopeless even. It’s sloppy, like a kindergartener’s handwriting, but it has an urgency to it that shouldn’t be ignored for long.

 

“U-- um… S-Sans?” you croak, truly terrified and you don’t fucking know what to think of everything that has happened in the past twenty minutes.

 

Sans closes the book and all but slams it down on the table. “ _ what? _ ”

 

You are so close to whimpering (but thank God you don’t) as you lift a shaky finger to point at the book. But anything of that message is already gone. The cover looks the same as it did when you first picked it out. What the hell is happening? Are you going crazy? You must be going insane.

 

“you were right, (y/n). just a bunch of nonsense.” He picks it up again, grinning tightly. “i’ll see if i can do anything with it, maybe decode it with alphys.” Sans holds it in his left hand, and it’s gets coated with a cerulean substance before it disappears. Was that his magic? How did that work? Sans then walks away as if nothing peculiar had happened.

 

So then you’re left alone with your thoughts, and that plus the recent events is not a good combination because you. Are.  _ Freaking. Out. _ What even was that? Who -- or  _ what  _ \-- was that message from? It was creepy and-- and… and you don’t know what to do! What are you supposed to do? Save someone -- or some _ thing _ \-- that you don’t know? It was so vague, and so vain because you don’t have all the pieces of the puzzle here. You don’t even know what the puzzle is supposed to  _ be! _

 

“(y/n)?” Sans taps your shoulder, and you wince, not expecting that in the slightest. His face shifts into one of concern. “whoa, are you okay?”

 

“YEAH! Yeah, just a little jumpy is all, haha!” you sputter nervously, trying to hide your anxiety with a smile. You see he’s carrying three bags full of books in one hand. “Oh, are we going now?”

 

“yeah, i don’t really like staying in public places for very long,” he says, shuffling restlessly. You realize quite too late that his hand is held out for you to take so that the two of you can teleport. But you realize something else, too, as you absentmindedly reach for his hand and take your own bag that has one measly book in it. That notebook is sitting in one of the bags he has, and the cover says something new:  _ pLS. _

 

“heh, yeah, i do have a lot of books, don’t i?” Sans comments when he notices you’re staring.

 

You open your mouth to say something, but it just turns into a half-laugh and smile. You won’t let these sad or mysterious things alter your mood any longer. Just focus on the moment. “Let’s just go.”

 

\---

 

~~_ n0, pLeasE. YOu aRe mY ONLy hoPe… _ ~~

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! It means a lot to me. I hope you have a lovely rest of your day (〃ω〃)


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